The Power of Deduction: A Sherlock's Daughter Story
by readingrachel
Summary: When Sherlock finally got the case he wanted, he didn't expect to bring a girl home. Neither did she. But this girl happens to be 4 years old. So, as she grows up in a crime busting world, will Sherlock grow up too?
1. Chapter 1

The sun's rays went through the window, making itthe only form of light that went through the small apartment.

Sitting alone on his chair, Sherlock Holmes was in his robe looking though cases on his laptop.

"4,3,5,2," he drowned on and on, his voice sounding more and more frustrated.

He stood up quickly and got his coat finding a case that was at least a 6.

Going down the stairs and opening up the door dramatically, he waved for a taxi, his scarf moving with the wind that signaled yet another rainy day in London England.

The taxi arrived revealing a small home with vines growing around the roof almost hiding the huge crack in the house. The white paint was barely reaching the surface, covered by dirt and age.

"Who are you?"

Sherlock bumped passed a man slamming open the front door. A small girl in dirty and large clothes jumped, hiding behind a corner.

The man with light blonde hair, a bit of a belly, followed Sherlock, and gave the girl a intense and stern look. She suddenly jumped back up again, returning to cleaning the dishes.

"Who. ARe. YOU," the man roared.

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective and the police will be here in-"

Suddenly, two police cars showed up to the front of the house.

"Get back to work," the man said, gritting his teeth while the small child behind him seemed to be looking out the window. With her eyes wide and arms shaking, she went back to work.

"What's going on Dad?"

Sherlock turned to the hallway to the left of the front door, revealing at least 5 kids, all with dark hair and dark eyes, clearly in elementary school a majority of them, except two who were about in their early teens.

"Secret boyfriend," suddenly popped up next to one of the older kids. Sherlock smirked at his deduction. "Probably going to be pregnant sooner or later no doubt," he thought.

The other teen was clearly failing 3 of his classes and smoking crack.

One of the kids looked at the small girl and gave an evil grin. It was clear him and the others harass her.

He then looked at the girl, her arms were shaking with bruises and scratches on her legs and arms, clearly from her sibling. He tried to deduce her further but her emotions showed nothing. Which left Sherlock shocked and confused.

The girls eyes looked at Sherlock staring at her.

"Trench Coat, clearly expensive. Comes from a rich family," she thought, looking at the consulting detective, "a job that is made up clearly doesn't get a lot of money," she giggled at that thought. Despite the fact that her dad didn't let her watch TV  
or take any breaks for that matter, the four year old still has heard of the famous genius.

"By the way he is griping his hands, he's trying to hide something or..is lying to himself," she thought, "clearly is the younger sibling, and has a friend who's a doctor." She smiled at how much she's been improving.

"Sherlock for the millionth time bring the-," Lestrade began but then stopped when he saw the little girl standing before him. Sherlock stared at him trying not to get pissed at not only him, but the situation at hand.

"Put your hands up, you bastard."

"We called for the murder of my brother not for me to get arrested," the big man spat while being put into handcuffs.

"Suicide," Sherlock spat back.

"I'm sorry?!"

"Suicide. Obvious really."

"Knew it,"the little girl wrote down on a piece of paper, carefully passing it to Sherlock.

"Now get in the car," Lestrade stated gruffly as he passed the accused abuser to the other officers.

"And you," he looked towards the little girl as he went back in the broken down house," what might your name be?"

"Charlotte," she wrote in messy handwriting on a piece of paper.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlotte looked at her older brother nervously, his face changed from one of mischief to one of anger.

As she walked out of the house, he put his leg out causing her to trip and fall on the floor.

"Your fault," he spat.

""He's not even your real dad Hans," one of the children replied.

Charlotte frowned and got back up, noticing a newfound scar on her knee.

Lestrade glared at the other children on the way out as he led her out to the police car leading to the station.

"She's not talking," Lestrade stated sadly.

"Can she even talk?!"

"Of course she can Anderson," Sherlock began, "she's brilliant."

Suddenly all the officers turned towards the tall and lean man, also known as Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes was not only one of great intelligence but he was one who didn't treat compliments lightly and gave them very rarely.

So to say that he gave one to a four year old girl he barely knew was to say...shocking.

"You don't see it?!"

"See what," Anderson asked.

"Sherlock rolled his eyes before dramatically leaving again texting John on his way out.

"I say he gets the job."

"Are you crazy," Anderson started, "he's a psychopath. He'll use her for experiments before he becomes a good father!"

"I'm not asking him to be a father, I'm asking him to watch her for a few days," Lestrade started, "we both know the orphanages are full and would you rather watch her?!"

Anderson then looked at the child through the nearby window. She was writing notes down as she stared at him then walking up to a whiteboard she wrote one thing.

CHEATER. 


	3. Chapter 3

"No I suppose not."

"No."

"Sherlock-"

"No."

"You said she was brilliant."

"I am a consulting detective not a babysitter."

"Please," he begged.

"Using the word please will not make your case better Lestrade."

"She's useful."

"How?"

"You said it not me."

"I said she was brilliant not useful."

"Intelligence is power."

"Since when are you a man of quotes?!"

"Since I've been seeing Barbara."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Then suddenly he thought of something.

"Let me see them."

"Who?"

"Her parents."

"What?!"

"I'll watch her if you let me see her parents. They abused her. Might as well see what I'm getting myself into."

"Her mother didn't abuse her."

"Wrong."

"She did too?!"

"Obviously."

"Fine," Lestrade sighed on the phone then hung up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Please listen to Sherlock-The Music Box Collection by Lucas King while reading this. It's beautiful.**  
 **  
**

Later that day, Sherlocj came back to Scottland Yard once again to pick up Charlotte.

"She still hasn't spoken," Donavan stated looking at the child sadly.

"Obviously, you think things would change in one day," Sherlock asked.

"Oh shut up freak."

"Come along Charlotte," Sherlock called, ignoring Donovan as he opened the door letting Charlotte out.

Looking at her eyes he was reminded of someone he knew...or maybe someone he still knows.

It was late at night and presented Charlotte with a brown teddy bear as a "Welcome Home," gift as she so excitedly stated. Which of course Sherlock disagreed with, saying she wouldn't stay longer than a couple of days.

"Oh Sherlock," she sighed, "I never thought you would be a father."

"I'm not adopting her ," he responded for what seemed like the 50th time.

She shook her head ignoring him as she took away an empty tray from his apartment, closing the door on her way out.

Charlotte rubbed her eyes, writing in messy handwriting, "I should go to bed."

"John's room is down the hall to the left m," he muttered pointing to the room while strumming his violin.

"Is that your doctor friend," she wrote on the paper.

Sherlock rose an eyebrow. She deduced more than he thought she did about him.

He nodded.

Charlotte wobbled down the hall looking at a closet on the way there, which revealed old tattered blue scarfs.

She looked to see if anyone saw her and then took one for herself, wrapping it around her new bear.

She named it Sherlock.

 _"Here you go mummy," Charlotte said as she gave her mum and dad some bacon and eggs. She tried to hide her shaking hands not wanting to be hit again._

 __

 _"What did I say about talking," the woman snapped, "you idiot. You never learn. You're as useless as you are daft."_

 __

 _Charlotte then ran off hearing the shattering of dishes._

 __

 _Suddenly she bumped into Hans._

 __

 _"You daft dimbo," he said punching her in the stomach, "you made mother angry again. You're a mistake and that's all you'll ever be," he continued punching her over and over again until-_

 __

"AAAAAAAAAAAA," Charlotte screamed as she shot up from her, or formally John's bed.

Sherlock shot up running towards the room concerned.

She rocked back and forth as she wrote a note trying not to scream again.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Sherlock read out loud, "I just had a nightmare I'm sorry to wake you please don't," he paused.

"Please don't hit you," he asked, "or insult you like in your nightmare?"

"Both," she wrote.

It was clear then what affected her the most. It wasn't the constant beating from her brother. It was the verbal abuse from almost everyone in her family.

"Come along," he sighed turning on the light and reaching out his hand.

Charlotte took deep breaths as she rose an eyebrow.

"We're going to watch crappy really. Now come."

She slowly stood up taking his hand and her best as they both sat on the couch to watch the television. Glowing in the dark night, Charlotte chuckled as Sherlock yelled at the TV who the actual father was.

But despite the yelling, Charlotte soon found herself sleeping once again, on Sherlock's shoulder, her long eyelashes and small eyelids covering her soft hazel eyes.

That's when Sherlock realized.

Why he liked her.

Why she seemed so familiar.

Because she was so much like John.

From the shortness (which was only temporary), to her eyes that have seen too much but still remained soft, and even her blonde hair and smile. It was the exact same.

If he put Elizabeth Watson (Mary and John's daughter) and her side by side they could be sisters.

He suddenly imagined Charlotte, still four, trying to convince the elder Elizabeth (who's five) to play Cleudo with her. And although it couldn't happen now, maybe someday.

And that's how he found his next assistant.

The next morning Ms. Hudson found Charlotte and Sherlock sleeping side by side on the couch while the morning news played on the telly. Taking a quick picture, Sherlock shot up, careful not to wake the child up and was prepared to sign the papers.

The adoption papers.


	5. Chapter 5

The next two weeks were filled with joy and happiness for Charlotte. Happiness that she never felt before.  
style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;" 

"Yes John I adopted a child."

Charlotte smiled, still not used to the fact that she got adopted.

"Yes."

"YES. I. ADOPTED. A. CHILD. STOP ACTING SURPRISED," Sherlock snapped on the end of the line.

"She's my assistant."

"For the cases of course."

Sherlock suddenly frowned.

"But-"

"Jawwwwnnn," he moaned in annoyance, "I don't care if she's four or five or whatever, she's older than she acts!"

He rolled his eyes and hung up while John was mid sentence.

"You're going to visit John," Sherlock suddenly turned towards Charlotte with his jacket already on, "I'm visiting your parents."

Charlotte winced at the thought of her parents. Not just what they meant to her. But the idea of those type of people existing.

"Doesn't he have a daughter," Charlotte wrote on a piece of paper.

"This is getting ridiculous. I'm not going to beat you for speaking Charlotte."

Charlotte then pointed at the question on the paper multiple times.

"Ugh yes," he nodded, "she's at school."

Charlotte smiled. It's not that she didn't like other children. It's just they made her nervous.

She should talk to her new therapist about that.

If she would talk that is.

Carrying her music theory books that she got at the library two days ago with Sherlock and listening to Chopin, Charlotte found herself in John's car.

"He's a very nice man," she thought, "no wonder Sherlock's friends with him. That and he carries a gun around."

"Would you like to go to the music store," John quickly asked while stopping at a stop light.

Charlotte nodded excitedly.

As they turned in, Charlotte nearly jumped out of the car, her little legs carrying her quickly to the music store.

That's when she saw it.

The cello.

She had heard song after song on the cello, even read music theory to learn how to play it. But she never in her life ever saw one.

"Would you like to try it," the store manager asked.

Charlotte nodded slowly.

Next thing she knew, her eyes were closed and her fingers swept off the strings, beautiful but sad notes from Adagio by Bach soon played and she smiled like she hadn't smiled before.

Meanwhile, John recorded the whole thing.

"Presenting Charlotte Lise Holmes: Musical Genius?"

That was the headline for one of the news stations on the telly.

Another one was, "Sherlock now raising a fellow genius."

Apparently John's post titled, "Charlotte Lise (after the physicist) Holmes plays cello for the first time," went viral on his blog. And for once, John was happy he caught one of Mary's unshakable habits.

And since Lise was technically his niece now, he bought the cello for her.

And that's when all the reporters kept coming.

Day after day she practiced, much to Sherlock's happiness, which came along with reporters scrambling for a recording or a picture.

Because they soon realized this:

The famous Sherlock Holmes has a successor.


	6. Chapter 6

For once Sherlock did not speak this week.

Not once.

Which made Charlotte verrryyy suspicious.

He was up to something...but his face read nothing as he read the paper while Charlotte ate some eggs.

"We're going to Scotland Yard," he interrupted the silence as he turned the page of the paper.

She grinned, she finally got to see where John, and Sherlock, and Lestrade worked!

Tugging him by the coat sleeve, after breakfast, Charlotte jumped up and down with excitement trying to get Sherlock quickly out the door.

"I want to see dead people," she wrote with exclamation marks.

He smirked but then frowned at the fact that she wrote on a piece of paper.

She rolled her eyes at him knowing why he frowned.

"Let's goooooo," she wrote making a squeaking noise, unable to contain her excitement.

"Fine, fine," he sighed his eyes showing he once again was up to something.

"Sherlock why do you have a four year old at my crime scene?!"

"Anderson you are 5 times her age yet you still manage to look like an idiot compared to her now let me work," he snapped as he bent down and looked at the body.

Lestrade waltzed in staring in shock at the scene.

"My division," he stated simply while quickly taking the little girl's hand.

"What are you doing?!"

"Sherlock this is my yard. My rules. You're lucky to even be here."

"She's with me."

"She's 4."

"She's with me."

"She's not even in school yet Sherlock!"

"She's my assistant."

"Sherlock Holmes-"

"It was a suicide."

"What?"

"It was a suicide," he said motioning towards the body.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

Not because she saw a dead body.

No that wasn't odd at all.

Nope.

It was because he said it was a suicide.

Charlotte looked around for a writing pad, but couldn't find one.

"Okay," Lestrade sighed ignoring the fact that a child may be traumatized by a dead body...because Sherlock is well...Sherlock.

Tugging at his sleeve once again she kept shaking her head trying to tell him that he was wrong.

It couldn't be a suicide.

It just couldn't.

"What," he said with a false pout, "cats got your tongue?"

Charlotte knew then what he was doing.

He stole her pad to get her to talk.

She whacked him with her hands, setting her jaw as her face turned red.

He smirked as he watched her get angrier and angrier.

"You can tell by the wound Graham-"

"Greg."

"That it was a SUICIDE."

"And the angle of which the body was found."

Charlotte started rubbing her temples and pacing around in frustration.

"And don't forget the-"

"MURDER," she yelled, "MURDER MURDER MURDER MURDER! Look," she said pointing at the body, "the gun is found on his left hand, YET the bullet was found in a right angle. Also his mouth! It's in a look of horror and look at his shoelaces!"

They then all looked at her while Sherlock grinned laughing.

"Told you Anderson," he smirked.

Running as fast as she could she went to the cabbie signaling to go anywhere.

That's how she found herself at the morgue.

Running as fast as she could she went past a young woman with brown hair and brown eyes.

"Oi," she yelled, "what are you upset about little one," she asked sweetly.

Pacing around and covering her mouth she started hyperventilating.

"Here," she said hastily, "write it down."

All she wrote in that moment before she fainted was one name.

Sherlock Holmes.

"WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES WHY DID YOU SCARE A FIVE YEAR OLD GIRL TO DEATH."

"Four Molly," he smiled, "she's four."

"FOUR YEAR OLD OR NOT SHE FAINTED."

"Her name is Charlotte and she spoke for the first time today," he laughed, "her first word was murder."

Today he knew was a day he would put in his mind palace and keep there forever.

"I'm really happy for you Sherlock," she smiled at the line but then frowned as she looked at the little girl, "BUT SHE FAINTED. CALL HER PARENTS. SOMETHING."

He then hung up.

"Are you okay? Do you remember your name? What's your name?"

"Charlotte," she whispered. "Charlotte Lise Holmes," her voice cracked from not speaking for so long.

That's when it clicked.

"Is Sherlock your father?"

"Sorta."

Minutes passed when he came up and hugged the small child.

"You're hired! You're hired!"

Charlotte huffed for a moment trying to hide her smile. 


	7. Chapter 7

2 Months later and it was the end of the summer.

Charlotte found herself to be talking more and more until finally, with the help of her therapist, she put her notepad under her, no longer John's, bed.

And although she was still a quiet child around strangers, she finally trusted Sherlock and his surprisingly wide variety of friends.

"Happy birthday darling," was what Charlotte woke up to, seeing Ms. Hudson in a messy apron.

Rubbing her eyes she turned her head confused.

"I saw your papers a couple months back," she explained, "now comeon I got pancakes for breakfast."

Following her to the kitchen, she found Sherlock once again reading the paper.

"Sherlock."

"What?"

Ms. Hudson nudged Sherlock trying to get him to say something.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you Sherl."

"My name is Sherlock, Ms. Hudson not-"

"Actually it's William," Charlotte muttered.

Sherlock glared at her until she gave a toothy grin.

"I invited everyone to come by to celebrate so it would be nice if you cleaned up," Ms. Hudson said looking at the messy kitchen table then the living room.

"By everyone you mean...?"

"Greg, Molly, John, Mary, Elizabeth, Mycroft-"

Suddenly, Sherlock spat out his coffee.

"You what?!"

"I invited Greg, Molly-"

"No, you invited Mycroft?!"

"Yes," another voice said.

Turning around, Sherlock found Mycroft standing by the door with his famous umbrella.

Sherlock fixed his jaw, trying not to grown out loud. He never planned for Charlotte to meet his elder brother...but now...

"Ooo," she cooed, "this is your elder brother," she suddenly grinned, "clearly trying to lose weight I see."

"He told you to say that," Mycroft snapped.

"No I didn't," Sherlock said with no lie in his eyes, "theirs a reason she's my assistant."

"She isn't your assistant. She's your child. Treat someone with respect for once in your life."

"Lost two pounds, congrats by the way," Charlotte said, ignoring the banter going on between the two brothers.

"Thank you," he said curtly.

"Oi, Sherlock you gotta fix these stairs," someone yelled after a sudden thud was heard in the distance.

"Greg!"

"Oh hi there birthday girl," Greg smiled as he walked to her picking her up, "and hi there to..?"

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Aka the British government," Charlotte joked while booping Mycroft in the nose.

"Greg Lestrade," he said extending his free hand while putting Charlotte down. Mycroft smirked for a moment while he bent down, while Sherlock rolled his eyes.

(Authors Note: That's code for "HE LIKED THE BOOTY.")

Then Molly came up, with a long beautiful dress complete with red lipstick.

"Molly!"

"Hello there little one," she smiled, presenting her with a gift.

"Thank you so much," she whispered to her while giving her a quick hug, "I'll just put it over here."

After running along back to the front door waiting for more people to show, she was suddenly pushed over by someone a lot taller than she was.

"Elizabeth," someone downstairs yelled, "I told you to only do that for football!"

(Authors Note: British football guys comeon)

Charlotte froze with her eyes wide trying not to get reminded from her old life from what seemed like such a long time ago.

"Hi," the elder girl said cheerfully, "my names Eliza. Wanna see my tooth that fell out this morning?"

"Uhhh," she paused trying not to keep her mouth wide open, "sure."

Getting it out of her pocket, Elizabeth presented Charlotte with a pointy tooth, dirty from being in her pocket.

"Can I do experiments with it," Charlotte asked while examining the tooth, "did you have broccoli last night."

"Yes and yes. How did you know? Are you a mind reader?!"

"No," she laughed, "I just saw it."

Elizabeth turned her head confused while putting the tooth back in her pocket.

Not wanting for her to freak out like her "parents" did about her intelligence, Charlotte tried to change the subject.

"Wanna listen to music?"

"Sure then we can dance together! Like in my ballet class!"

"Ok.."

The apartment then echoed with classical music from a radio as Eliza taught Charlotte the foot positions.

"Then this is third, and this is first," she explained while moving her feet.

Charlotte tried to copy it but then fell over.

"I guess you aren't the sports type," Eliza laughed, "mummy told me that I was."

Hours later and everyone was getting along well. Charlotte and Elizabeth both had their naps and the adults were both socializing as per usual with parties.

"So that's how my wife left me, Lestrade said sadly while drinking more of his cup.

"Have you ever thought of dating anyone different?"

"Different like what?"

"Like-"

"Present time," Ms. Hudson suddenly interrupted getting the stack of everyone's gifts while Charlotte sat on the floor.

"I'll open Molly's first."

Carefully getting the wrapping off, it revealed a beginners chemistry set. She gasped.

"Thank you Aunt Molly!"

"You're very welcome sweetheart," she replied, kissing the top of her head.

Next was Greg who gave her some CD's and a officer badge.

"You do better than half our officers anyway," he joked.

Charlotte blushed while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Molly, John and Eliza were next with one gift each.

Eliza with a plush bee, Molly with matching bee tee shirt and black pants since Sherlock's picks were, "too similar to his look," while Sherlock argued it was "reliable and consistent with the work she was doing," and finally John gave her a bee violin  
case.

"A violin case, but I don't have a-"

She then turned to Sherlock with her eyes wide as he nudged her with his gift.

Opening it up revealed a small violin complete with rosin, music, and a bow.

"Thank you thank you thank you," she cried, tears of joy going down her cheeks, "And thank you Uncle John and Aunt Mary and everyone and-"

"What about me?!"

"Oh I'm sorry Mycroft I forgot about you," she chuckled while wiping her eyes.

Opening it up she heard a bark.

"A DOG," Sherlock and Charlotte yelled at the same time.

"I'm gonna name it Redbeard," she laughed, "cause it's red! And it has a beard!"

Looking at the Irish settler, Sherlock glared at what Mycroft, knowing he was doing this to annoy him.

"Don't forget the envelop," Mycroft whispered to Charlotte as she hugged him.

She ripped it open seeing a letter.

"You are invited to go to Murray's School of Arts and Education?!"

"School," Sherlock cried, "No way,"

"But Sher-"

"No."

"Brother just because I left you while you were bullied at-"

Sherlock suddenly jumped at Mycroft from the floor while the dog barked at the two of them.

"Okay girls. Not now-" John started.

"Don't start," Sherlock growled at Mycroft ignoring everyone in the room.

"Papa," Charlotte started with a sad look in her eyes, "Please."

Sherlock's expression suddenly changed from one of anger to realization.

He let go of Mycroft and sat back down while stealing her violin to tune, acting like nothing happened.

"Guess that solved it," Molly whispered to Mary.

"Didn't know a little girl had so much power over him," she whispered back.

"Now promise me to not-"

"No."

Charlotte then sighed giving Sherlock puppy dog eyes while holding Redbeard giving puppy dog eyes.

"Pleeeaasssseeeeeee," she begged.

"No," he said while glaring at Mycroft.

Charlotte huffed.

"Now play with me," he ordered trying to ignore the situation at hand.

"Okay Papa."

Sherlock tried not to blush on his pale skin.

He would never get used to hearing that.

They then played together the songs Charlotte heard millions of times from the basics to the challenging ones.

They harmonized together.

And Sherlock couldn't be happier. 


	8. Chapter 8

Hours later after the party ended, the famous Sherlock Holmes still seemed...off.

And Charlotte noticed.

"Please don't be high please don't be high," she muttered to herself. Knowing her sister and hitting the books have taught her a couple things. Including what it looks like and feels like to be high.

And let's just say on film, seeing a at the time four year old high is hilarious.

But that's not the point.

"He probably isn't...," she looked at him, "unusually violent today but, that's probably how he is around Uncle Myc."

She sighed. Even though she did call her adoptive father "papa" for the first time didn't mean he didn't have any faults.

And it would drive her insane if she didn't know.

"Papa," she whispered while holding her blanket and bear since it was late at night, and Sherlock was on the phone.

He turned putting the phone on his chest so the person on the other line, probably Mycroft based on the way he was holding the phone, wouldn't hear.

"Yes?"

"Are you...high?"

He rose an eyebrow.

"What?!"

Her throat suddenly went dry.

"Are. You. High? Sissy got high once and she got all violent like you did and she started punching people and slamming people into walls and-"

"For once your deductions are wrong," he said coldly.

"Oh ok good," she smiled ignoring his coldness...or at least trying to.

"You should go Charlotte. It's late."

She frowned but left.

Hearing near her bedroom door, she heard the conversation on the phone.

"For the last time I'm not-"

"Oh shut up," he spat.

"Or what," he asked sarcastically, "you'll send me away like last time? Oh how unfortunate."

"I'll pay for a tutor."

"I don't CARE if it's a free scholarship for the next 12 years."

She then heard the voice on the other end get louder.

"You said caring is not an advantage remember," he smirked while pacing around the room outside.

He then suddenly went to a halt and frowned.

"SO AM I," he roared, "SHE'S MY CHILD FOR GOD SAKES NOT YOURS."

"You wouldn't," he growled.

Their was a pause for a moment then he threw his phone across the room.

"GO TO SLEEP CHARLOTTE," he yelled towards the hallway.

Several Days Later

"So I'm going to school today?!"

"Yes," he sighed.

"Thank you thank you thank you papa," she replied excitedly hugging him. He stiffened, patting her head, now dirt free and shiny.

Walking into the school, their was no denying it was fancy with Ivy wrapping around the brick walls and the bushes blooming with flowers and fruits of course being trimmed to perfection.

Walking alone she soon found herself nervous.

"What if all the kids are mean just like they were to papa," she thought looking at her small fingers.

She sighed as she went into the classroom.

"Oh god," she muttered.

Everywhere kids were coloring or playing with toys in a brightly lit room filled with all kinds of colors and numbers.

She hated it.

Turning around and jogging into the front office, she found an older stern woman with squarish framed glasses.

"And what is it that you need dearie?"

"I need to get out of that class," she demanded.

She made an awful face at that remark.

"What class?"

"5-102."

"Oh dearie that's the only kindergarten class. The only way to skip it is to take a test for it."

"I'll take it then."

"Tomorrow. You'll take it tomorrow," she corrected, "today you'll enjoy your first day of school, yes," she asked grabbing Charlotte's arm and leading her back to the class.

Charlotte taking her own arm back looked at the elder woman like she was mad or something.

"I don't belong in there," she squeaked, "Their dumbos!"

"Well we'll see by tomorrow ok?"

She shook her head until she was once again dragged by the elder woman.

"Let me go," she yelled, "please let me go," she corrected, "I don't belong here papa was right," she talked to herself out loud, "papa! PAPA! PA-"

Her mouth was suddenly covered by a hand firmly as she squirmed while being dragged to the classroom.

"HELP! HELP!"

"Shut up you stupid child," the woman snapped.

Quickly and out of anger, Charlotte stomped on the woman's foot, while yelling in pain she ran for what felt like her life.

Making it outside, she breathed heavily until she felt someone cover her head with a bag.

And then everything went black. 


	9. Chapter 9

She saw nothing.

But heard something.

In the distance, somewhere she heard someone roar, "I told you not to touch her," and then a couple gun shots.

Waking up and looking at the ceiling she found herself to be in a abandoned house not too far from her home, she could tell by the weather outside which could be seen from the tiny window in front of her.

Looking at her face in a cracked mirror as she got up, she saw a bruise on her eye, that's about it. Not a big deal.

Didn't mean she wasn't in pain though.

Hearing slow footsteps coming from obviously just cleaned shoes, Charlotte stood still.

And then she saw him.

"Hello," he greeted cheerfully, "my name is Jim."

She didn't respond, just stared at him.

Westwood suit just like in her parent's closet.

She always wondered where her parents got Westwood suits. It wasn't like they were rich like Jim.

Unless he gave it to them-

No.

It couldn't be true.

This man.

The one that kidnapped her couldn't be-

But he could.

Brown hair, brown eyes. Looked just like her mother.

Even the hint of an accent was similar.

Charlotte clenched her jaw.

"You know Sherlock should really teach you some manners."

"You're a murderer," she whispered, "that's how you know him. And a psychopath too."

"Oh dear," he laughed, "hate to break it to you but so is Sherlock...and Mycroft but he isn't a psychopath."

He paused getting a gun out.

"Now," he began, "enough with the chit chat-"

She quickly grabbed the gun out of his hands facing him with it.

"Oh oh oh!"

He then giggled in delight.

"Then I guess we'll have another murderer in the family."

"You really are adorable. Thinking you can shoot me or any of my assassins with that. Really."

She then slowly put the gun to her head.

"Oh Uncle," she sighed, "how can I miss this," she asked motioning the gun toward her head once again.

He frowned.

"Oh my god," she heard someone whisper.

"Westwood suit just like my fathers said he got it from my mother's brother said I was just like him which is probably why they hate me so much," she explained smirking while holding the gun tighter.

"You didn't kidnap me to scare me or Sherlock you did it for yourself," she whispered again, "caring is not an advantage dear uncle."

Suddenly two men attacked Moriarty from behind while Lestrade shot the assassin.

"Alright Charlotte put the gun down," one of the men said soothingly.

"Thanks John."

Another man grinned in the shadows. Clearly Sherlock.

About to pass the gun to John, she heard a gunshot and dropped it.

She then collapsed.

"You really didn't think I just had one did you," Moriarty grinned while being handcuffed.

"Charlotte," a voice yelled, "can you hear me?! CHARLOTTE."

Then everything went black once again.

Until-

"You just got shot, a hole is going to rip through you, what do you do first," Mary asked circling her in the no longer dark room. Lights escaping through the window.

"Fall," she breathed out.

"Already did that," Mycroft corrected.

"Uhhh,"

"Narrow it down," Mycroft clued.

"Narrow. It. Down."

"Feel."

"Exactly," another voice chipped in. Molly turned adding, "so you need control. Don't look down."

Charlotte then looked down to see herself bleeding profusely on her shoulder.

She then ran breathing heavily as she went up the stairs until she was stopped by none other than-

"She said not to look you idiot. You really are an idiot. A daft dimbo actually," Moriarty grinned like the Cheshire.

"Shut up get out of my mind palace."

"I can't. You put me here," he replied revealing a door. Opening the door she saw her old bedroom back in her old home.

"He is right you know," Hans said sitting on her bed, "we can't leave. And none of us will ever leave your stupid little brain unfortunately," he added as her brothers and sisters all appeared in her room surrounding her.

She started to breathe in and out faster and faster until she needed to grab something.

Running out she screamed in pain.

Until Redbeard came running toward her.

"Redbeard," she cooed as a pool of blood was forming around her.

Unable to ignore the pool he soon disappeared too.

"Think think," she whispered, "I can't die yet."

"She's brilliant," a low voice said.

Turning to the police station she found Sherlock talking to the police.

"Sher!"

"Oh hello love," he whispered cupping her face in his hands. She soon found herself putting her bloody hands on top of his as he kissed her on the forehead.

"Control," she whispered, "control."

And soon everything was bright once again.

"CHARLOTTE CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

Charlotte found herself on the ambulance, the howls of the sirens echoing in her head causing her to have a headache.

"Of course," she whispered blood coming out of her mouth.

"Oh god oh god oh god," Sherlock muttered trying not to panic. I mean his little girl only got shot right?! Putting his slim fingers on his head he went into his mind palace.

"Put pressure on that wound," John's voice echoed in his brain.

Quickly he jumped towards Charlotte putting his scarf on the wound pressing downwards.

She yelled once again in pain. Until her eyes started to fall once again.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me," he demanded hitting her face a little.

"Control control," she whispered over and over again. She really wasn't in the mood to die today.

"Remember when I showed you Mary and John's wedding song?"

Charlotte nodded while a tear went down her face.

"Hum it," he demanded trying to distract her.

She did all the way to the hospital.

Hearing snaps of cameras from the paparazzi and yelling from the doctors Charlotte tried her best to keep herself awake.

"Sher," she wheezed.

"Yes?"

"Am I just like him?"

"Who," he asked pretending to not know what she was talking about.

She then gave him a look.

"No," he responded finally, "not at all."

"He's the reason they hate me you know," she whispered again, more tears falling down her eyes, "if I wasn't so stupid I could of had a good relationship with them."

"You weren't being stupid," he said coldly while she went in the emergency room, "you were being you."

"Same thing."

"No," he paused not really wanting to have a chat about her original parents, "NOT the same thing. And besides, you wouldn't have met me," he responded letting go of the wound as she went into the double door of surgery.

And for once in her life, she embraced the darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock like many parents, never realized that their child would have low self esteem issues so early.

Especially since Charlotte was only five.

But Sherlock was the same way too.

But with everything she and him went through it made sense.

Waiting in her room for her to come out of surgery, a doctor soon came in.

"She almost died of blood loss sir," the doctor explained carefully, "but since you held the wound pretty well she lived."

Sherlock smiled. He would have to thank John later for that.

"She's in good condition for what almost happened," she continued, "but she'll be out for the rest of the day."

Sherlock then looked outside, it was about 5 PM so Charlotte would be going to sleep soon anyway.

"She'll be able to use her shoulder with some therapy Mr. Holmes, probably about 2 to 6 months."

He sighed. He thought the therapy days were over for her.

Oh well. At least she was okay.

As the doctor left, he heard his phone ring and answered it.

"Mycroft this is why I didn't want her to go to that dreaded school of yours."

"Oh shut up," he spat.

"Says the person who got her a puppy AND a scholarship."

Someone then knocked on the door. Sherlock immediately hung up.

Coming through the door revealed two nurses and Charlotte sound asleep with a big bandage around her upper arm.

His eyes softened at the sight.

When they left, and no one was looking Sherlock revealed under his big coat Charlotte's bear, and carefully put it under her damaged arm.

"Night love," he whispered and then he soon fell asleep as well while sitting on her bed beside her.

"SHERLY CURLY HOLMES WAKE UP," Charlotte yelled.

Sherlock sprang up from the hospital bed concerned and looked at the giggling child hiding beneath her covers at the hospital.

"People are coming!"

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "don't call me that."

"But are people coming?! Pleaseeee tell me you invited them to come papa!"

"No," he said simply, "I wanted to make sure you lived first," he joked messing with her hair.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically. "So am I going back to school?"

He then frowned, "God no."

"Oh," she frowned. Their was no use in arguing with him. Especially not now.

"I'm going to email that bastard woman who dragged you however," he hissed, "no one does that to my-," he then stopped and just looked at Charlotte while she smiled.

"Thanks papa," she blushed, forcing him to a hug. He stiffened but soon relaxed, getting used to something that once was so foreign to him.

"And you are going to learn self defense as well," he explained, "I'm not having this happen to you ever again."

"Can I learn how to shoot a gun?!"

"No," someone muttered by the door.

"But Jaaawwwwnnn," Sherlock groaned.

"He said that I couldn't shoot, now I have to prove him wrong!"

"My five year old niece and goddaughter is not going to learn how to shoot a gun."

"Charlotte doesn't have a godfather much less a godmother," Sherlock stated confused, "God doesn't exist."

"Yes she does. It's me and Molly Hooper."

"What?! No-"

"Anyhow my goddaughter is too young and you both need to shut up. I sneaked my way in here and I really don't want to have to be escorted out."

"And Charlotte Lise Holmes if you EVER pull a stunt like you did yesterday, I and Sherlock will kill you," John warned.

"I thought it was a clever move."

John then gave Sherlock a look.

"Um I mean, he's right, you can't just threaten to kill yourself."

"I can't believe he's my uncle," she thought out loud.

"No he isn't," Sherlock whispered, continuing to mess with her hair, "those people aren't your family anymore I promise."

After a moment of silence John soon left knowing Sherlock needed to talk to Charlotte. Seeing as she was staring at a wall.

"Char," he sighed, "Char."

She turned towards him with worry and fear in her eyes saying, "what if I turn to him papa?"

"You're not like him and you never will be darling," he whispered rubbing her back as he saw John do to Elizabeth a million times.

She then put her small head in her smaller hands trying not to cry.

She almost died yesterday.

"Shhh," he cooed, "everything is okay now."

And for a long time, everything was.

The next few months consisted of therapy (which Charlotte hated), self defense (which she loved), advanced work with the tutor, and of course solving cases.

Walking in to yet another case with heely's (it makes it easier for her to catch up to Sherlock's long strides) she went into St. Bart's with a sense of pride.

"Hello Molly!"

"Ready for today's dissection," she asked bringing out a human brain.

"Yup," the little girl said cheerfully while putting on gloves and tying her hair back.

And that's when her love of science began...but not the type you suspect.

"So this is the frontal lobe-"

"Quick question."

"Yes?"

"Why does the brain work the way it does? With emotions and all of that?"

"That's more of a psychology question."

"Oh ok," she replied, messing with the frontal lobe with her good arm.

Later that day, not only did she return her music theory books, she got some psychology books.


	11. Chapter 11

Listen to Sherlock Composing by Lucas King while reading this.

Reading her books at home after talking to her tutor, doing some experiments with Sherlock, and of course looking at a human brain with Molly, Charlotte found herself exhausted.

And she still had therapy to do.

Rolling her eyes, she got up and tried to play her violin or cello but no luck.

Her upper arm hurt too much.

Frowning she say back down and stared at them.

Sherlock looking at the scene and frowning as well decided he might as well play for her.

Looking through old sheets to pick out a piece, he noticed something at the bottom of the box.

A pirate hat.

He remembered the time when he wanted to be a pirate.

"Ooooo what's that," Charlotte asked.

"Nothing of your concern," he stated coldly.

Opening the box anyway, it revealed the old pirate hat.

"A pirate hat," she exclaimed, "that's silly," she giggled, "we should play pirates."

Sherlock shook his head, "you need to brush up on your music while you can't play."

"Pleeeeaasseeeee," she begged.

"No."

"I guess I'll play with Redbeard then," she stated sadly walking away.

Sherlock quickly had a flashback:

"Myc pleeeaassseeeee," a young Sherlock begged his elder brother in a suit as he was preparing to leave for boarding school.

"I have to leave brother mine," he shot down frowning at the young boy with the pirate hat.

And then he saw him walk out the door.

And it wouldn't be his last time.

"Fine," he groaned.

"YAY!"

"But this is for self defense do you understand?"

"Yes Captain!"

"That's Captain Holmes to you Madame."

"And I'm a prisoner trying to take over the ship!"

"Not on my watch," he warned getting a plastic sword that Mycroft gave her as a gift for feeling better.

"3,2,1," she began and then they fought, the sound of plastic hitting plastic echoing in the apartment.

She quickly fake stabbed Sherlock in the chest.

Letting out a gasp, Sherlock collapsed to the floor (like the overgrown child he is) and played dead while Redbeard sniffed him and walked away.

"Papa," she squealed shaking him, "I win," when he didn't move she frowned until-

"BOO!"

Jumping forward, Sherlock picked up Charlotte with ease as she laughed and squealed.

"I win."

"Fine," she said defeated, "I love you papa," she admitted.

"I-"

Then a knock on the door came revealing none other than Mycroft with a smirk on his face.

"I see you are playing pirates," he stated with a smirk.

"Just practicing self defense sir," she said cheerfully, "wanna join?"

"No thank you and it's want to not wanna," he corrected.

"Pleeeeeaaassseeeeeee," she begged.

And soon the little girl in the pirate hat reminded Mycroft of a little boy he once knew.

Sherlock smirked.

"Fine," he said defeated.

"YAY!"

And so the three young Holmes' played pirates together. And for once, all of them got along.

Christmas soon came around and Charlotte couldn't be any happier.

"Mycroft is forcing us both to spend Christmas with my parents," Sherlock explained as he had Charlotte carry her bags.

She nodded, hoping they were nice. Or at least not stupid.

When they finally made it, Sherlock never seen his mother run to him so fast.

Except...it wasn't towards him.

"OH SWEETIE PIE," she yelled toward Charlotte hugging her tightly spinning her around as if she somehow gained super strength, "YOU ARE MORE ADORABLE THAN THE PICTURES!"

"Pictures," Sherlock and Char asked at the same time.

Mycroft then appeared smirking with a handful of more pictures in a file.

"Creep," Sherlock muttered.

"Come in come in," she said cheerfully taking Charlotte's hand, "Oh hi Sherlock."

Charlotte's eyes looked at the two men behind her as she was rushed in pleading for help or and out.

The men just chuckled at the sight.

They both knew that the one thing mother Holmes always wanted were two things:

A daughter and a grandchild.

And she got the best of both worlds finding Charlotte.

"So what were you for Halloween Charlotte?"

"I wasn't anything," she said quietly, "too many cases."

"Cases," she then looked at Sherlock, "you take her on her cases?!"

"Of course."

She then rolled her eyes at the thought of bringing a 5 year old to a crime scene.

"We're going to have a chat later about that Sherlock Holmes just you wait," she said sternly. She then turned back to Charlotte smiling, "so what do you like to do, read? Dance? Play?"

Charlotte sat silent looking at her fingers. She then looked at Sherlock for help. He only motioned for her to answer.

"I like to play instruments," she stated quietly.

"Instruments?! Mycroft and Sherlock used to play instruments all the time. Now just Sherlock plays. Come I'll show you the piano."

"The piano," she asked excitedly.

"Yes come dearie."

Across the hall, Mrs. Holmes revealed an old style piano with rusting keys but still in good condition for how old it was and what it went through.

"This is Mycroft's old one," she explained, "he used to play on it all the time while little Sherlock used to sit right next to him or play the violin."

They then looked at the old pictures standing on top of the piano.

"That was the year Sherlock drugged us," she pointed to a recent picture, "that's the year Sherlock and Mycroft nearly burned the kitchen down," she pointed to an older picture.

"What," she giggled, "but cooking is just chemistry but with food."

"You would think they would be intelligent based off their demeanor wouldn't you," she joked back, "they aren't."

She then looked out the window seeing the two boys of the subject outside.

"They must be smoking again," she sighed angrily, "I'll be back."

Finding herself alone, Charlotte carefully opened the piano and thought of a tune.

She then went to her mind palace and remembered one that she found deep in Sherlock's stack of papers.

It was titled "The Woman."

She remembered smirking at that.

But she always thought it was missing something. Some kind of flare some kind of emotion.

Next thing you know, she was doing runs on the keys, moving her small body around on the seat to reach all the keys as quickly and as accurately as possible.

Unknowing to her, Sherlock and Mycroft and everyone else came in, quietly listing as she put force on the keys for the climax.

Sherlock bit his tongue in annoyance.

"Merry Christmas Mr. Holmes," a seductive voice in his head stated.

"Get out of my head I'm busy," he said coldly out loud.

"What," Mycroft asked.

"Nothing."

Once she was finished she smiled.

3 now.

And who knows how many more to go?

Sherlock then literally dragged her outside as Mr. Holmes quietly clapped.

"Never ever look into my stacks again is that understood," he growled.

Her eyes wide with fear, looked confused but didn't try to deduce him, now wasn't the time.

"I-"

"Promise."

"But-"

"Promise," he growled.

"I promise to not look in your stacks," she stated quickly, "I'm sorry."

And so then they went back inside. 


	12. Chapter 12

PART 2: THE TEEN YEARS

8 years later and Charlotte was already 13 years old.

How time flies.

And in between those 8 years, Charlotte had a bigger mind palace, solved dozens of cases, and won the science fair for homeschooled children.

But despite all of these accomplishments, as she looked at her birthday cake and thought of a wish, she had what seemed to be a simple task for many in mind.

Make a friend.

Sure she had Greg, and Molly and Sherlock and John and Eliza and everyone else in her life but they didn't count.

They had to be friends with her by association.

For once she wanted to meet a complete stranger, not some person by association, and be friends with them.

They wanted to laugh with them, do experiments with them, maybe even solve crimes with them.

But every time she tried, they would be blind sighted by Sherlock or by her "fame" or anything but herself.

As her sad eyes looked at the birthday candles, she closed her eyes and blew them out, putting on a fake smile and rerolling her sleeves as all the adults clapped and took pictures.

"Aren't you concerned," Molly asked in another room.

"Concerned about what?"

"The fact that she never talks about her friends."

"She doesn't have any," Sherlock shrugged, "besides all of us."

"No wonder she's upset then! She needs to interact with people her own age Sherlock. Or else she'll just feel lonely and upset all the time."

"I'm more concerned on what she's hiding."

"Excuse me?"

"Notice how for once in 20 years it's 90 degrees here in London YET Charlotte desires to wear a long sleeve shirt that she so happens to keep pulling down."

"Do you have any idea what that's all about?"

"Of course," he sighed looking at Charlotte talking to Eliza animatedly, "but I need the evidence before I take action."

2 days later and Sherlock has been examining Charlotte non stop.

"Looking for any changes," Charlotte suddenly asked, getting Sherlock out of his reverie, "now that I'm a teen and all."

"You've already changed so much," Sherlock admitted, "it's just a matter of why."

"Changed for the better or worse?"

"Why did you try to take my cigarettes last night," Sherlock suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Why. Did. You. Try. To. Take. My. Cigarettes," he repeated calmly trying not to lose it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she denied.

"Do you need me to get Mycroft to get a recording? YES MYCROFT I KNOW YOU HAVE CAMERAS IN HERE," he suddenly yelled at the ceiling.

"I-"

"Show me your arms."

"What?!"

"Show. Me. Your. Arms."

"Why," Charlotte challenged.

"You're wearing a long sleeve shirt that you are obsessively pulling down. Is that not suspicious," he asked.

"I'm cold."

"Prove it."

Revealing her arms he saw nothing but pure skin. She then smirked.

"See?! Nothing. I'm. Cold."

"Wash them. Your arms. Wash them."

She rolled her eyes at the situation, "Fine."

She then came back revealing nothing once again.

"You didn't wash it off hard enough," he stated.

"What?"

"The makeup."

He then took her hand and got a towel, washing her arms hard. She tried not to wince at the pain from friction.

As he rubbed back and forth her skin was getting redder and redder until finally he saw it.

Scars.

"First cigarettes now cutting," he muttered turning to her.

"And you contacted a drug dealer recently," he deduced, "weed or cocaine?"

"Papa-"

"Weed. Or. Cocaine," he asked gritting his teeth.

"Weed."

"That's it. We're taking you to a doctor."

"No papa I'll change I promise it's just I need to find a fix something that'll work maybe I'll make a friend just don't take me to the doctor please-,"

"And you've been taking painkillers," he deduced again turning his head to the right.

"Stop it. Stop all of this," she begged, "please can we just talk about this?!"

"You almost passed out while I was gone," he whispered truly frightened.

"STOP DEDUCING ME," she yelled.

"We're taking you to a doctor whether you like it or not," he started, grabbing his jacket on his way out.

She sighed and grabbed hers too.

"She has addictive personality disorder," the doctor diagnosed, "probably got it from her birth parents and from her traumatic childhood. I suggest we get her to therapy and give her these pills," the doctor then started to write a list of pills and passed  
it to Sherlock.

"So I have trouble because I need to have a fix?"

"You don't NEED a fix," she started, "due to your chemistry, your brain only thinks you do."

"Okay," Sherlock interrupted, "thank you."

"Tell me Charlotte," he asked annoyed on his way out, "is there an actual reason why you didn't tell ANYONE about your issues with addiction?!"

"I-"

"You have no excuse for this."

"I know," she began, "But-"

"No excuse."

"BUT," she yelled over him while they got in the cab, "When did you tell John? About your drug abuse? Oh wait you never did. He had to find out by himself like you are right now. How the tables have-"

"This isn't about me. This is about you," he snapped, "you have people who clearly care about you and you didn't give any of them the time of day."

"MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO DISAPPOINT YOU AND MYSELF LIKE I CLEARLY DO ALL THE TIME," she roared as they got out of the cab.

Sherlock looked at her for a moment in silence as he opened the door for her.

"You are calling Molly and telling her you aren't going to be there for a while."

"But what about our latest experiment?!"

"Forget about it."

"But-"

"And you are explaining to her why you can't come."

"But-"

"And you are going to therapy."

"But I'm ALWAYS in therapy."

"Call. Her. Now," he said slamming the door of his room and going into his mind palace.

"How did Sherlock react," Molly asked.

"He's angry and disappointed and-"

"Well I am too Char."

"I know," she sighed.

At times Molly did seem like the mother she never had.

"I'm sorry," she said, tearing up.

"It's okay. You should talk to him," she advised, "after he's done being in his mind palace."

"Okay," she replied, "thanks."

"No problem," she smiled while petting her cat, "I'll call you later Char okay?"

"Okay Molly bye."

"Bye."

"Sherlock," she asked knocking on the door.

"I'm busy."

"Papa I'm-"

"I'm. Busy."

"Tell me what to do."

"What?"

"Tell me what to do," she repeated, "you had addiction problems, tell me what to do about it."

"Distract yourself," he sighed at the other end of the door.

"By?"

"Doing things that make you happy."

Sherlock then heard her breath hitch a little.

He opened the door and gave her a hug.

"I need help," she said tearing up.

"With what," he asked soothingly.

"With everything."

"That's okay," he sighed rubbing her back like he has done a billion times. 


	13. Chapter 13

The next day was when it happened.

Sherlock opened the door to wake up Charlotte for another busy day in London when he saw her.

She was sleeping soundly with blood surrounding her bed.

"CHARLOTTE," he yelled, shaking her sleeping form.

"Ugh what now," she asked until she saw the blood.

"OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL?!"

She then saw more blood leaving her legs.

"WHO IN THE HELL STABBED ME WHILE I WAS ASLEEP?!"

"JAWN, CHARLOTTE GOT STABBED THERE IS BLOOD ALL OVER HER BED I NEED YOUR HELP."

"Does she have stomach pains," he asked calmly but annoyed that he was woken up from his deep sleep.

"OF COURSE SHE'S IN PAIN JAWN SHE GOT STABBED."

"I'm passing it to Mary," he sighed.

"What is it Sherlock," she sighed.

"CHARLOTTE GOT STABBED!"

"What?!"

"I NEED YOUR HELP."

"Sherlock she's on her period."

"Her what?!"

"Her period. It's normal for teenage girls to go through this at least once a month," she sighed.

"Where they GET STABBED?!"

"No Sher, it's a sign that she's not pregnant. I'll come over," she sighed.

"How did you not know?!"

"Must have deleted it," he sighed seeing Mary get new sheets.

"Well she'll be in a bad mood for the rest of the day so I suggest you be, well-"

"Not myself?"

"Exactly," she joked.

Then Charlotte came in the room with a big frown on her face.

"Oh hi Char how are you?"

"Terrible," she sighed opening the fridge, "do we have ice cream?"

"No," Sherlock replied carefully.

"What about chocolate?"

"Nope."

"Ughhhh please tell me you at least have a case?! Oh wait I can't go because you're afraid I'll get high on the fresh air or something," she snapped.

"What," Mary asked confused.

Sherlock then explained what happened yesterday.

"He's trying his best Char," she sighed.

"I know," she sniffed quickly, "I'm a jerk aren't I?!"

"No no no-"

"I am. I'm sorry. I know I'm not a good person," she said looking at the ground.

"Let's just go to the case," he said getting annoyed with the mood swings.

"Really?! I can go?!"

"Yes."

"Yay! Bye Mary!"

"Well she got happy pretty fast."

The next night, Charlotte opened up the door to see Donovan on the other side.

"What do you want," she snapped.

"We're here for a drugs bust."

"A who ha?"

"Drugs. Bust. Apparently you're freak of a father is on drugs again?"

"WHAT?!"

"No Donovan," Lestrade corrected, "Sherlock actually was the one who called. Said it was for...," he paused trying to come up with an excuse without spilling the beans, "precautionary measures."

"You can't be serious?"

"You've gotta problem with it freak Jr," Donovan asked as she entered the door.

"Yeah."

"Well that's too bad."

"Like how you ruined Anderson's marriage. Now he won't talk to you. Now THAT is too bad," she laughed looking at the tissues in Donovan's back pocket.

She just stared at her for a moment before saying, "one day your father or you are going to end up in the station. And when you do, don't come crying to me."

"Trust me I won't," she stated while moving her dad's gun around on her pointer finger, smirking.

"I told you they couldn't come," Sherlock suddenly interrupted coming in the room looking at Donovan and Anderson.

"I still can't believe you ordered a drugs bust," Charlotte spat shaking her head, "if their were drugs," she whispered, "you would of found them by now."

"This is for precautionary measures," he whispered back, "TAKE AWAY THE PILLS TOO," he ordered towards the people in the back.

"Im going," Charlotte announced.

"Where?"

"Out."

Suddenly she was greeted, as always, by cameras and paparazzi.

You would think you would get used to it.

But you never do.

"CHARLOTTE RUMOR HAS IT YOU HAVE A FAMILY HISTORY OF ADDICTION PROBLEMS IS THAT TRUE?!"

How did they figure it out so quickly?!

"WHY IS THERE A DRUGS BUST GOING ON IN YOUR HOME?!"

"IS IT TRUE SHERLOCK HAS A HISTORY OF DRUG ABUSE AS WELL?!"

She suddenly stopped on the street and looked at the cameras.

"Where are you getting this information from?!"

"From famous sports superstar Elizabeth Watson. Apparently you guys are family friends?!"

Like Charlotte, Elizabeth grew in fame as well.

But in the exact opposite way.

Through sports.

She was a champion in rugby, football, track, and so much more and has been a champion ever since the age of five right after Charlotte first met her.

Getting a cab to the Watson home, Charlotte banged on the door.

"Hello John," she said calmly.

"Hi," he said concerned, "Mary told me what happened a couple days ago and I heard what's going on in your home right now, are you okay?"

"Just fantastic sir," she said sarcastically, as she walked in, "especially since your daughter spilled the beans to the press!"

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I SWEAR," she yelled from another room, then walked in.

"Accident my ass Eliza. You were an accident."

"Yeah," she nodded, "so were you," she countered.

"Now I'm going to be known forever as the druggie who always needs a fix!"

"MAYBE BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!"

"Okay girls-," John started until Charlotte leapt towards Eliza with full force with a fist.

"TAKE THAT BACK!"

"NEVER!"

They then kept rolling on the floor punching each other in the face. It was a pretty even fight and there was no clear winner.

John and Mary struggled to keep the girls apart but they did it eventually.

"ELIZA HAS SMOKED WEED BEFORE!"

"NO I HAVEN'T!"

"Then why is a drug dealer your number 1 contact," she asked seeing her phone in the distance.

"Like you haven't Charlotte Holmes," she spat.

"Try me."

"GIRLS," John yelled as the two once again got louder and louder while Mary and John held them back.

"WHAT," they both said at the same time.

It was then silent until the two girls interrupted it in high pitched laughter.

John then looked at the two confused.

"Women," he muttered.

********************************


	14. Chapter 14

"I am going to kill you though," Charlotte stated later as the three Watsons and the Holmes all watched crappy Telly.

"I'm going to kill you too," she replied.

"After you are ungrounded that is," Mary said nonchalantly.

"Aw comeon! It was one time!"

"You shouldn't have smoked weed at all," John stated, "And if you have your drug dealer as your number one number it wasn't one time."

She then glared at Charlotte while she continued to watch the TV.

"And both of you are going to therapy together," Mary stated, "you both know that based on how the way you both acted that both of you need it," she said sternly.

"Really?!"

"Trust me you get used to it," Charlotte replied coldly.

"Oh shut up," Eliza replied coldly back.

"At least we can annoy the shrink together in group. We can casually talk about murder, dead bodies-"

"I'm good. I kind of don't want to be sent to a hospital."

Their then was silence once again until Char's phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Yes I'm at John's house."

"Yes I know."

"OH IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

"I'm bringing Eliza. Ok. Bye."

She then hung up.

"You do med academy at your school correct?"

Little known fact about Eliza besides the fact that she's smoked weed is the fact that she wants to be just like her dad: an army doctor.

"Yes."

"Any good?"

"Very good."

"Seen a lot of injuries...violent deaths."

"Well...Yes."

"Bit of trouble too I bet."

"Why does this seem so familiar," John thought for a moment.

"Of course yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

"Wanna see some more?"

"Oh god yes."

And then the two left the house while John sat there and looked confused.

Several days later, and Charlotte and Elizabeth found themselves going into the group therapy office.

"We have to have a plan," Charlotte stated, "to get out as quickly as possible.

"Okay," Elizabeth agreed, "don't say you don't have a drug problem and talk about how good your doing, pretend to be happy."

"And if that doesn't work, we can just scare them off with crime stories."

They then gave each other high fives.

By the time they left, one kid threw up and the therapist told both of them that they were proud of them for their "progress."

Twice.

"So I see both Plan A and B worked."

"It did indeed," Charlotte smirked.

By the end of the month, both Charlotte and Eliza were kicked out of all therapy offices due to being "better", their horror stories, or even both.

And since they both promised to stop doing drugs before they got TOO addicted and learned coping skills (although they would hate to admit it) they didn't go back.

And all was well...for now.

3 years later

"FOLLOW THAT TRAIN!"

"I GOT THIS," Eliza yelled, ahead of Charlotte (the perks of being a star athlete) running next to the train tracks.

She then jumped on the speeding train and 5 minutes later, Char soon followed suit.

Waiting for her, they both waited until the man was least suspecting them.

"Do you have your gun," Char whispered.

"Yeah."

"Pepper spray?"

"Char I got this."

"Alright alright," she then passed her Lestrade's police badge, "let's get him."

They then climbed the ladder, wind blowing in their hair and coats while holding guns up and badges.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"

Later after much struggle getting off the train and arresting the man they turned him into the police.

"No wonder dad does this on the side," Eliza laughed, "it's fun."

"Yeah," Char laughed back.

"What were you doing on a train?!"

They then turned to see Lestrade behind them with his arms crossed.

"He jumped so we jumped. We caught him didn't we," Charlotte asked.

"Yeah you did," he paused, "but you both are also CHILDREN and my NIECES."

"It's our thing uncle. It's what we do," Eliza laughed and looked at Char.

"Yeah. It's what we do." 


	15. Chapter 15

"Hello," Eliza greeted answering the phone.

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Ummm yes."

"That would be great! Thank you so much!"

"Alrighty bye."

She then hung up.

"You're coming with me to be on the cover of Health."

"I'm sorry what?"

Ever since Eliza started getting fame, she's gotten offers to be on the cover of all kinds of magazines and newspapers. And it wasn't like Char wasn't, she's been on the news ever since she was adopted, but she always made funny faces or joked with the  
reporters.

It wasn't like she was ever serious with them.

"You're going to be interviewed with me on the cover of health."

But unlike Sherlock, she actually cared about what they said about her and since SOMEONE decided to spill the beans about her drug use, she might as well redeem herself now.

Even if it was a couple years late.

"Fine. To think two previous drug users are on the cover of a health magazine is a little odd though," she joked.

Eliza frowned.

Several weeks later and Char already broke half the equipment trying to jump with Eliza for the cover.

"Are you sure we should do a jump now?"

"Now that you think about it..."

The cover of them both were truly glamorous.

And Char wasn't used to it.

Neither was Eliza.

They were both not exactly the glamorous type but they made it work.

The cover showed Eliza in a form fitting dress which showed off her abs and skinny frame on the left while it showed Char on the right in a black dress showing off her intense eyes and nice butt.

"Well..."

"Well..."

"Our parents reactions will be interesting..."

"Interesting indeed."

"Ohhhhhh darling you look so beautiful," Mary cooed towards Eliza, "and you look great too Char!"

John agreed.

"Why are you wearing a dress you never wear a dress!"

"Is that a problem," Char asked Sherlock.

"It's not convenient at all!"

"It's a magazine cover photo! Does it have to be?!"

He rolled his eyes, "What if a kidnapper came in and attacked you both? Would you want him to see your...-"

"I would get the gun out of my dress that I CARRY AROUND and shoot him in the toe."

Sherlock rolled his eyes once again and looked at the photo carefully.

He then realized why it bothered him so much.

It wasn't the dress.

It was that his little girl was growing up.

2 years later and Eliza was already in college in one of the top med school programs, while also being the top athletes in her school.

2 years later and Char was at the front doors of a different school.

It was a community high school actually, but that wasn't what she was there for.

She was there for one of the top scholarships in the country.

Each and every year, thousands of 18 year olds try out for a chance to be one of the top student in their division. The divisions ranging from core studies like mathematics and the sciences to the arts and other electives like art, dance, and vocals.

And although Charlotte Lise Holmes had tried many things in her life, it was clear ever since she was younger what she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

Be a musician.

She had prepared months for this moment, not talking for months as she composed, as she practiced, and as she read music theory.

And although she wasn't sure she was ready for the task she knew she had to be, so she opened the double doors, carrying her violin, her cello, and her bag, Sherlock following close behind.

"You have practiced this for months," Sherlock said interrupting the silence as they waited, "why are you nervous?"

"I'm afraid I won't be good enough," she said honestly as she opened the theater doors for him.

"You are," he said sincerely as he left.

"Thank you," she muttered as she got in the long line full of her instrumental competitors.

Somehow, since she got here last, she ended up being last and with great time came great patience.

She started pacing as the line got closer and closer, until finally it was her turn.

The final participant for the final division.

As she walked in, she saw the full house filled with famous geniuses that she recognized and their was no doubt she was recognized too.

Them and their family members.

Trying not to shake out of pure terror she whispered, "control, control, control-"

"I'm sorry what was that?"

"Hello," she greeted while holding her violin. She then noticed the orchestra behind her and greeted them as well.

"Did you know that you are the only one out of all of your competitors that required an orchestra?"

She looked in the crowd for Sherlock who mouthed, "don't lie."

"Yes actually," she replied honestly, "I can tell by the way seats are situated that you rushed to get ready only leading to the logical conclusion that not many people required an orchestra. Getting that deduction well...," she paused not wanting to  
run on.

"Tell us more," the judge said.

"I got it from the fact that the violinist in the back," she turned pointing her now towards him, "yes hello," she greeted, "has his music upside down."

He then fixed it.

"Clever," the judge said.

"Thank you."

"Now what will you be playing," he looked down on the papers in front of him, "Charlotte?"

"First will be Winter from Four Seasons then Moonlight Sonata on the piano, then last will be cello suite no. 1 in G."

"Do you learn instruments quickly Ms. Holmes?"

"Just let me listen to a song once or twice and I can play it."

"Good," the judge smirked, "you may begin."

"Thank you sir."

Closing her eyes she started off quiet with quick swift movements, getting ready for the buildup.

The buildup soon came and she played each note with accuracy and dedication. Switching the bow quickly from string to string she hit not a single scratched note, for each one was as clear as the last.

She paced around as she normally did while playing and soon found herself on her favorite part: the middle.

Closing her eyes tighter she played the notes smoothly and elegantly as the song slowed to a lullaby.

The buildup, however soon returned and she also returned to doing quick notes and made sure to make every solo count.

She finally made it to the end making the last note just one beat longer than the original piece and stopped.

Silence was soon in the room for a good long two seconds.

"WOOOOO YEAH GO CHAR CHAR," Eliza yelled.

"YEAH WOOOOOOO," an unfamiliar voice continued clapping.

Soon the whole theater clapped while the judges wrote things down.

"Next will be the cello please," another judge asked politely.

"Of course."

Ever since she was younger she knew the famous cello solo, and by the time she was 10, she memorized the whole piece.

Closing her eyes once again she imagined she was in her home, playing as a young child.

"Go on," a stern but comforting voice said in her mind.

And then she played.

She soon finished and finished Moonlight Sonata, reflecting how the three parts represented her life.

The first part representing her past.

The second part representing her present and being adopted.

And the last part representing her fast paced and high paced future.

After a couple minutes of claps she passed the judge her papers and her orchestrations.

"Are you sure you can pull this off," the main judge asked.

"Yes."

"Well I guess you'll have to prove it then, you're one of our finalists."

She covered her mouth as an interruption of high pitched giggles erupted from her mouth. Tears soon went down.

"Thank you thank you so much," she cried.

"You'll be going against Gregory Miles," the judge explained, "thank you for coming."

"Thank you," was all she could say.

"You are very welcome."

When she got down from the stage to greet everyone, she found a single rose in her bag.

From a big fan

Was all that it said on the piece of paper attached to it.

"Ooooooo," Eliza suddenly appeared, wiggling her eyebrows, "someone's got a secret admirer."

"Sounds a little off if you ask me," Sherlock said gruffly while him and John presented her with some flowers of their own.

"Thank you," she said to the two men giggling, "and it's just a rose," she said to them, "it means nothing."

"Well I'm pretty sure that that was your secret admirer screaming your name with me," Eliza thought once again wiggling her eyebrows, "must mean he's more than a BIG fan."

"Oh shut up," she said blushing while grinning at the rose.

As everyone finally left the theater, Sherlock and Char were alone getting Char's stuff.

"I'm," he paused.

"Hm?"

"I'm proud of you," he finally finished his sentence.

She turned her head and looked at her father's face which was looking at the ground.

He never was a man of compliments.

But when he gave one, he meant it.

"Thanks papa," she smiled at him.


	16. Chapter 16

"HE'S BLIND," Charlotte yelled in the quiet apartment.

"Hm," Sherlock asked while conducting an experiment.

"GREGORY MILES IS BLIND."

"Hm," he said in response.

"He's been to Carnegie hall twice," she read on in his profile, "and he's blind. He's bloody blind. How can I compete against a blind guy?!"

"Hm," he said looking at the experiment's results.

"Sherlock," she yelled standing up and waving her hands in front of his face.

"What?!"

"Don't you understand?! He's blind! How can you play instruments blind?! It's extremely hard to do! I can't compete against-"

He suddenly put a hand in front of her face.

"Shut up."

"SHERLOCK THIS IS A SERIOUS PROBLEM I-"

"Shush child," he said patting her head and scooting her away from the kitchen table.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES-"

"Shhhhhhhh."

She then huffed and walked away while Sherlock just smirked.

After much thought, she thought of a solution.

She realized in order to beat him she had to be vulnerable in some way too.

She had to have something that hit the judge's heartstrings.

So she wrote down what each piece meant to her, how she came up with it, and the symbolism.

She hated it.

Talking about her feelings and such.

But maybe her "fan" would like it.

She hoped so.

She had a good feeling about him.

Yes it was a him. It's easy to tell by the handwriting of the note he gave.

And their were fingerprints but she hid the letter so no one could examine them.

She wanted to be surprised.

Which she was starting to regret when she started to get ready.

"Oh god," she muttered when picking out between two black dresses.

She eventually chose a black lace lace dress and tied her long hair into a braided bun and set out for the competition.

After they presented the previous winners for her division, and also presented the winners for this year in the other divisions, Gregory went first.

His pieces were light and happy but still complex and with meaning. The violins played a key role going up and down all the strings.

His pieces were so very different from Charlotte's own.

Which of course made her nervous.

She knew her's would be hard to pull off but she had to take a risk. It's what her life consisted of anyway.

Walking up to present her first piece, she took some very deep breaths and tried to think of something happy. Something that happened to her as a young child.

"Look! It's an otter papa!"

"Yes it is indeed," he said smiling.

She looked at him and smiled while he picked her up looking at the otters playing and snuggling with each other.

She hugged him and fell asleep in his arms.

Opening her eyes as she walked into the bright lights of the stage she started off with something fast paced, something that fit to the name.

It was called Sherlock's Theme.

As she moved her arms swiftly she remembered every single case as they flashed before her eyes.

Then was Mind Palace and Solution which was describing...well her mind palace and her finding a solution and the first time she did that.

Last was her most powerful piece of all.

It was called The Woman.

She in fact met her once.

Only once.

But once was enough.

Sherlock and Char just got back from a case when they found someone in Sherlock's bed.

"Oh hello you must be Irene Adler," Char deduced, "my name is Charlotte."

"Oh he mentioned me?"

"Not at all," Charlotte and Sherlock said at the same time.

"Oh,"she smirked at him in her pajamas, her long wet wavy hair causing drops of water to slowly drip to the carpet floor.

"So Mr. Holmes you have a little girl on your hands now," she asked as she walked with them to the living room.

"I'm 16," she stated annoyed.

"Yes," he said ignoring Char as he sat on his favorite chair.

"You know my offer still stands," she whispered to him seductively.

"Not hungry," he said back.

She frowned but left to reveal a black lace dress.

"Here," she said to Char, "have this frock. It'll fit you nicely."

And after shopping with her several times for formal occasions and her popping up at her house once, she realized that Ms. Irene Adler was her father's match when it came to the world of deductions and solving crime.

"5 no 6 years old!"

"Correct," Sherlock smirked at her.

And Charlotte was not sure if she loved it or hated it.

Because she didn't know if she wanted to be the only woman in Sherlock's life or not.

As Sherlock watched from the stands, he wasn't angry at all.

In fact, as the violin solo, the one so familiar to him played, a single tear went down his cheek.

"I think it's titled wrong."

He turned to see Irene sitting next to him in a white dress looking sad.

"She really is 'The Woman'," she stated firmly, "or at least she is now."

"No," he replied smirking.

Because even if Charlotte Lise Holmes was 16,18, or even 32, he always saw her as his little girl. 


	17. Chapter 17

She had more to compose but these were the ones that she had time to do.

She stood and explained each one on the mic, glad she pulled them off while the judges wrote notes down.

As she went to the stage to sit down and wait with her competitor, she shook his hand and congratulated him.

"Yours was fantastic."

"Yours was too," he said smiling fixing his glasses.

She knew even without the scholarship, he could go anywhere he choose.

"Excuse me," the speaker said, "we are ready for our competitors."

Standing up and going back on stage, they both walked the same pace together, both greeting them with smiles as the winners of the old division, the judges, the winners of the other division, and the rest of the audience looked on.

She knew she would lose.

Everyone likes a happy piece.

Everyone dreams of being happy.

So that should apply to music.

But when she looked down and closed her eyes she couldn't help but hear her name as confetti hit her in the face.

"I'm sorry?"

"YOU WON!"

She covered her mouth as she held her stomach, laughing in high pitched squeals.

"Congrats," the boy next to her said.

"Thank you, and THANK YOU JUDGES," she yelled back as her family cheered from bellow.

As she got her certificate for a full ride to one of the top schools in the country and a trophy she grinned madly while photographers took pictures of her.

Finally, she stepped down and was greeted by cheers and bear hugs.

"Thanks for the song Char," Irene smirked.

"Yeah why didn't you make a song for me," Molly huffed.

"Working on it," she laughed, "plus she has a weird affect on Sherlock."

"Hm," Sherlock said looking up from his phone.

"Does that make me special," Irene asked.

John and Molly rolled their eyes.

"Ask him not me," Char replied as Irene left giving her some flowers.

John, Eliza, and Mary also soon left giving flowers as well along with Molly, Mycroft, and Lestrade.

Leaving once again Sherlock and Charlotte Holmes alone.

"Here's a damn tissue you big baby," she said passing him a tissue.

He then wrapped his long arms around her not saying anything and just said one thing.

"I'm so proud of you," he said squeezing her harder.

"Can't," she huffed, "breathe."

"Shhhhhhhhh," he said.

"I can't-"

"Shhhhhhhhh."

Later that day she found another rose in her bag saying a simple "congrats."

As she changed into another black dress, she looked at herself in the mirror prepared for what is to come.

She knew she would see him there.

As she walked in with Sherlock in a bow tie, she looked at someone for a moment.

He had reddish brown hair and big glasses, he was well built well and he had a squarish face.

Thomas Magnussen.

Math genius.

Invented 5 new equations in just the last year.

She had seen him in interviews on the Telly ever since he was a finalist for a math competition at 14.

To say she was a big fan was an understatement.

His eyes went wide for a moment as she sat down.

"Oh god, I don't have something in my teeth do I," she asked Sherlock.

He just frowned and shook his head at the interaction as they sat down at their designated table.

"Hello," he suddenly greeted.

"Thomas! Hi I'm-"

"I know. I'm a big fan."

"Really," she asked shocked, "because I'm a big fan of you," she said smiling as they shook hands, "thanks for the roses."

"No problem. Congrats by the way."

"Congrats to you too! You've accomplished a lot."

"So have you!"

They then talked philosophy, science, crime, politics, practically everything. Sherlock even chimed in here and there and Charlotte could tell that he liked him.

"So what's your name," Sherlock asked.

"Oh excuse me," Charlotte said, "Sherlock Holmes meet Thomas Magnussen, Thomas Magnussen meet Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock then quickly frowned at him for a moment before shaking his hand examining his face while Thomas frowned for a moment as well, taking the shake.

Thomas knew the name. Just not sure where.

"I believe I know you. I just don't know where," he looked at him confused, "and I think you know me too."

Sherlock said nothing as he looked away. He just shook his head.

"I'll be right back," Charlotte said taking her purse.

Soon, while sitting awkwardly for a few moments, Sherlock left too until-

"I know you killed him."

Sherlock turned.

"And I know he was a bad man. My mother told me. You should tell her."

"She knows."

"No she doesn't."

"She knows I've murdered people," he rephrased.

"But she should know. If her and I were-"

"No."

"...Friends."

"Oh," he said turning his head confused while he deduced him again.

"I'm back!"

They turned to see Charlotte back smiling awkwardly at both of them.

"I remember where I know him from," he said.

"Oh really," she said smiling at him.

"He killed my dad."

She then frowned and looked at Sherlock making the scene more awkward.

"He was a blackmailer. Killed people. He was pretty bad," Thomas explained.

"Oh," she said nodding with her eyes wide.

"Sounds like a scary guy," Char stated.

"He was," Sherlock stated as he sat back down in his seat.

And soon, the three talked animatedly once again until Sherlock left, getting bored.

And so the two were alone.

Well not really Sherlock got Mycroft to hook up cameras which is why he left.

But the two were alone sorta.

"Unforgettable that's what you are," the speaker sang.

"Oh I love this song," Char said after a while.

"Do you want to dance then?"

"I would love too."

And so they did.

It was slow and nice and wonderful.

"You know," she whispered looking into his blue green eyes, "you're the first friend that I have technically."

"You're one of my first friends too," he stated, "I'm a little antisocial."

"I'm a little psychotic," she whispered back while fixing her hand on his shoulder.

They laughed together for a moment and bumped into another group.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

They then giggled again.

"This is a code red," Lestrade said through the walkie talkie, "this is worse than Eliza's first date," he muttered, "their faces so close and laughing and-"

"Shut. Up," Sherlock said through the walkie.

"What do we do," John said in another location.

"We go in there and we stop this!"

"Don't be stupid Lestrade she's trained in martial arts and with a gun," Mycroft said, "although you aren't stupid," he added in defense ;)

"Thanks."

"You are very welcome."

"I have an idea," Sherlock said fixing his bow tie and putting on a fake mustache.

Walking in he took off his suit and stole a waiter's plate.

"Excuse-moi," he stated it French at the two, "but Ms. Holmes youz have a call."

"Thanks," she said smiling at him.

As she left she ripped off the mustache.

"What is it you need Sherlock," she said raising an eyebrow.

"Oh shit," Lestrade said in the walkie.

"Hi Greg," she said taking Sherlock's walkie, "oh and hello John, Mycroft."

"How did you know," John sighed.

"Please if Greg is here so is Mycroft and if Sherlock came you did too John it's how you both work you guys are practically married to each other."

"If anyone cares I'm NOT GAY!"

"You're right, you're bi."

"I-"

"What do you want Sherlock," she said interrupting John.

"He is not someone to mess with Charlotte. He's a Magnussen."

"And I'm related to Moriarty yet you adopted me Sherlock. You didn't judge me so you shouldn't judge him."

"You don't understand he's-"

"Just you wait he's a good man. You'll see," she said walking off.

He sighed, frowning while he walked away as well.

As the slow music continued to play, she returned to the dance floor.

"What was that about?"

"My papa was disguised as a French guy."

"He doesn't like me does he?"

"He doesn't like your dad. He likes you. He's just-"

"Being a dad?"

"Yeah," she nodded looking at the ground blushing at the idea that they were completing each other's sentences.

"What do you want to do," he asked, "before school starts back up?"

"Hang out with my new...friend," she stated smirking.

He smirked back. 


	18. Chapter 18

Months past and Charlotte was doing well in her major in music and composition as well as her minor in Chemistry.

But something was holding her back. Her past was becoming overwhelming, so much so that every time she went to sleep, she dreamed of her terrible childhood along with her being kidnapped again.

She tried to think positive, as she had done the many years before, saying to herself that she wasn't Moriarty that she wasn't her past that she had changed. For the better.

But she couldn't stop what she thought and every night she would wake up in a sweat, trying to quiet her heavy breathing.

No matter what she did, she couldn't escape the nightmares.

And soon, as she grew dark circles under her eyes, she saw her past everywhere.

The many white male business majors in suits reminded her of someone she once knew who wore a Westwood suit.

The man drinking down the street reminded her of her father.

But not her papa.

She tried calling him. She really did. But she knew he was busy and she was too...sorta.

Sitting alone she was confronted something that for so long she was able to stay away from.

Her past.

And she couldn't escape it now.

"Are you sure she's okay," Thomas asked one of his friends who had her for advanced Chemistry earlier that day.

"Yeah," she said, "she looks calmer, a little tired but I think we all are."

"How calm?"

She thought for a moment, "too calm if you ask me, and too quiet too...at least compared to her normal self. But that's probably because she's tired or overworked."

"Alright...thanks."

Walking away, he went down an alley way since it was the nearest short cut to his dorm. Walking at a fast pace he slowed down when he saw a body with blood and smoke surrounding it.

"HEY," he yelled, "ARE YOU OKAY?!"

Frizzy hair sticking out at multiple ends and a pale face it took a second for him to recognize her.

But he knew then.

It was Charlotte.

Carrying her bridal style, with blood dripping on her light hair, he called the police.

"Yeah she's bleeding and she has something in her pocket."

He checked it to see cigarettes and a couple test tubes that seemed to come from the labs.

And then she woke up.

"What the," she slurred moving her head around to look at her surroundings.

"What the FUCK have you been doing," Thomas asked.

"Don't worry bout' it," she slurred as she hopped out of Thomas's hands, walking away but coming back with a beer bottle.

"No more for you," he said snatching the bottle smashing it against the brick wall in the alley way.

She ducked and then screamed as the glass shattered against the wall. Her hands shook as she covered her ears.

She then paced around until she saw Thomas mouth something.

"Fish and Chips?"

She then closed her eyes and saw her younger self sitting next to Sherlock and Ms. Hudson.

This was a memory.

A memory that never happened.

"Papa can I have Margret come over tomorrow," her younger self asked

"Of course," he replied.

Rotating around the table, she was practically invisible to the other people at the table. She never heard of much less knew of a Margaret.

This was her dream world.

A world where she had many friends as a child to go hang out with and talk about boys to.

A world where the nightmares didn't exist...the past was where it was supposed to be and the present was where it was supposed to be.

"Char," a voice said.

She rolled her eyes. Time to go back.

"Charlotte!"

She opened her eyes once again to see the blue sky and Thomas grabbing her hand to find a pulse.

"Miss me?"

"Charlotte Holmes what are you on?!"

She then got out a piece of paper.

Her list.

Many years prior to this moment, way before she went down a dark abyss, way before she did treatment so many years ago, she somehow ended up in Mycroft's house doing a performance in front of a bunch of people who he said, "had high positions in the British  
Government."

As they left, he sat her down and had a "chat."

"Who told you?"

"No one," he said.

She looked into his eyes to find the lie. She found nothing.

"You have cameras."

"I have my ways," he said smoothly. He then passed her a piece of paper, a pen and some tea.

"You need to make a list."

"Of what?"

"Everything you've taken."

"Why?"

"It's the deal Holmes make to each other."

She stared at him for a moment before she took the pen and wrote the list.

"Here," she blinked several times as she swayed.

"What is this?"

"My list. Of what I've taken," she replied blinking a bunch again.

He looked at her in shock after he read the long and extensive list.

"You have to promise not to tell Sher. You're my buddy now."

"What?"

"My buddy."

He looked at her for a moment before taking her arm for her balance since she looked like she was going to fall over.

"Fine," he muttered as he escorted her to the ambulance.

"Show me her list," he said coldly.

Thomas woke up slowly to see a stern looking man in a fancy suit swinging his umbrella.

"And you must be her uncle," he said looking at him, "she taught me how to deduce," he added looking at Charlotte in her hospital bed as the sun's morning rays shined on her face through the nearby windows.

"She has a list?!"

Thomas turned to see Sherlock with his arms crossed sitting on the other side of the room.

"Of course," Mycroft said coldly, "what did you think I was going to do once I found out?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said coldly back, "since she isn't YOUR responsibility."

"Morning to you too," Charlotte interrupted while yawning. Stretching, she snatched the list from Thomas and put it in her bra.

"Hey!"

"You aren't my buddy Uncle. Tom is so bug off," she said annoyed, the hangover from the alcohol kicking in.

"Buddy," Mycroft said confused.

"I'm the only one who can see the list," Thomas rephrased as Charlotte threw up in a nearby bowl.

"Yes I've figured that out," Mycroft snapped.

"Here lemme see the list again," Thomas asked with his hand out.

"You better not give it to them," she threatened.

Two seconds later he passed the list to Sherlock and Mycroft.

"Are you fucking-"

She then got a look from Mycroft as he took the list. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oh. My-"

"I know Myc it's a little bit of a long list but-"

"Little bit," Sherlock whispered, "what even is that anyway," he said pointing at a long name of a chemical.

"Oh that's what you find in dust cleaner," she explained, "thought I should snort it," she said while moving her puffy hair out of her eyes, failing miserably.

"My god," Thomas said.

Sherlock for once said nothing, too busy examining the list.

"Mycroft, Thomas," he whispered, "Out."

"Sherlock-," Mycroft started.

"Out."

They both left quickly, quietly closing the door.

"Out of all people papa, you can't judge me," she started.

But he stood silent. Not even looking at her.

Just the list.

"Look I'm sorry. You have every right. I'm so stuck on the past that I can't move on I," she then stopped unable to figure out what to say.

"I have failed," he said looking at the list, "I was supposed to give you a better childhood then I had, without the drugs without the addiction without-"

"No no no," she interrupted.

"I failed," he said firmly with a sad tone, "I had one job. One. Job. And-"

"No no no," she started.

"It was supposed to turn out better."

"It was."

"You got kidnapped and abused and-"

"You couldn't change what happened before. Only after. And you did. Sherlock," she said tearing up, "you didn't fail me. I failed you."

He finally looked up from the list.

He finally looked at her.

What she had become.

But under all the frizzy hair and the red eyes and the alcohol breath and the stench of throw up he saw someone that he knew.

He saw his little girl.

"The reason why I did this was to forget. I have nightmares all the time and it sounds pathetic but," she paused again putting her head in her hands, "I can't escape. I can never move on, I can never-"

"It's bad isn't it?"

"Yeah." 


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey wormie worms I'm back. Sorry I was focusing on getting healthier mentally and didn't want to over rely on writing. But I'm back. Hope you worms like my garbage :)**

Several months later:

"Hello," a calm voice said at the other end of the line, "and welcome to London's Premier Psychiatric Hospital. How may I help you?"

Sherlock Holmes rolled his eyes before saying, "Charlotte."

"Alright."

Several seconds had passed until a young woman with dark circles under her eyes and long hair came to the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Today is your last day."

"I know," she sighed smiling, looking around the hospital she was in, fixing her robe while doing so.

"You better not go back do you comprehend," Sherlock said sternly.

"Of course," she said tiredly back. She came a long way. "How's Tom by the way?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes once again. They haven't spoken in months yet all she wants to hear about is her best friend.

"How am I supposed to know," he spat.

She frowned, sad that he still didn't like him.

"You know everything," she replied smirking.

He didn't respond as he went into the cab.

Suddenly, another line rang in the background. The lady at the front answered it.

"It's for you."

"I have to go Sher," Charlotte said quietly. And then after no response, she hung up.

"Hello?"

"Hi Char."

"Tom," she replied quietly, grinning.

"How are you?"

She frowned. She had heard that question too many times ever since she came to the hospital. And she knew that even when she would leave, it wouldn't be the last time she would hear it.

"Deduce me," she replied smirking.

"Well based on the fact that your sort of ignoring the question the only logical assumption is that you don't like the question. Since it's not personal nor is it uncommon I can only assume that it is a question you get too often. Plus you're wearing  
an oversized gown."

"I'm always wearing an oversized gown here."

"Well not anymore," he said in a hopeful tone, "and you just talked to your dad."

"You're getting better at this," she complimented, "Not as good as me but..."

"Show off."

"Oh you know you love it."

"So," he paused, "look up."

She slowly looked up and then-

"TOM," she yelled grinning, running to him as if she were someone running to someone coming home from the war. In a way, she was.

"Char," he smiled as she jumped on him, fixing her long gown in the process.

She giggled back, a girly giggle, a giggle she never ever expressed in her life erupted out of her throat. And their was no denying that it was for her best, and probably only friend her age, Tom.

Their then was a cough.

She let go quickly and blinked seeing Sherlock awkwardly standing by the door with his hands behind his back.

"Sherlock," she grinned.

"Charlotte," he said montonely but with a hint of a smirk on his face, unable to hide how happy he was.

"Sir," Tom interrupted offering his hand for a shake, "I believe we met a while back."

"Yes," he paused walking past him, clearly ignoring him, occupying himself by signing Charlotte out.

Tom awkwardly put his hand down and nodded in understanding, "let me help you get your stuff Char."

"I actually got it," she replied grinning, rushing away to get her stuff out of her room, "thanks though."

His smile was gone as she left to get her stuff, stuck once again in another awkward situation with the famous Sherlock Holmes.

They waited in silence for a couple minutes.

But everyone knows Sherlock Holmes is not a man of silence.

"Charlotte will say this isn't necessary, however," he paused, "you should meet her family. The family."

Tom swallowed nothing nervously, "Yes of course. It would be an honor."

"Since you and her are-"

"Oh no," Tom laughed awkwardly, "we aren't-"

"Your eyes and most of all your pants tell me otherwise."

Tom choked in surprise, not expecting that response.

"She doesn't-"

"She has defended you on multiple occasions Thomas. It wouldn't surprise me if-"

"I heard the word surprise," a voice interrupted.

Sherlock and Thomas turned at the same time, both wearing different expressions. Sherlock of course wore one of great confidence. While Thomas on the other hand, looked like he was going to throw up.

"Thomas is going to come by to meet everyone sometime."

"That isn't necessary," Charlotte's smile faltered as she walked out the door.

"Oh but since you talk about him all the time and he's with you all...the...time...the most logical step would be-"

"We aren't," Tom and Char stated at the same time, then looked at each other for a moment before looking away.

Sherlock rose an eyebrow.

"The logical thing to do is to have proof that this," he explained motioning towards the pair, "is a mistake. So making him meet everyone, watch him suffer and leave you, can help you move on and get back to what's important."

"Sherlock-"

"Hold up," Tom said holding his hand up to silence Charlotte.

"Oh forgot you were here," Sherlock said sarcastically, "please do speak. Everyone is dying to hear what you have to say."

"It's obvious you don't like me, but it's not as obvious as to how bad 'everyone' is. If I prove I can survive 'everyone,' I stay and I continue being here, with Char. If not, I go. Deal?"

"What about I choose who I have in my life not you two," Charlotte snapped.

"No," they both said at the same time as they shook hands, finalizing the deal.

"I'll see you later Charlotte," Tom said smiling, leaving the lobby.

As he drove away, and Sherlock and Charlotte finally got a cab, she turned to him.

"You. Are. Ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous is-"

"Don't start with me Sherlock Holmes. You don't say you don't like someone tO THEIR FACE."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Socializing doesn't matter. All that matters, is the work-"

"Sherlock this isn't about socializing. This is about me. Your-"

He glared at her. She'd faltered for a moment but continued.

"Your daughter. And the fact that you may be taking away her only friend her age."

"You don't need friends. You have-"

"Redbeard died remember? You told me over the phone. And everyone else is going to die before I do. Even you. So what happens then?"

Sherlock paused before repeating, "You don't need friends. You survived without one for a while."

He immediately regretted saying that.

"And look where I ended up," she said seeing the hospital slowly get smaller and smaller.

"You don't need HIM as a friend," he corrected himself.

She sighed giving up as she saw the familiar address of 221B Baker Street. 


	20. Chapter 20

**I meant to post this back in December but life got in the way little worms and...and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not posting and I'm sorry if I'm letting you all down. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

As they both went into the building, Charlotte was suddenly attacked by a hug along with a loud squeal.

"Ms. Hudson," Charlotte smiled hugging her back.

"I'm so glad you're back," she responded as Sherlock went up the stairs with Charlotte's stuff.

"Sherlock aren't you happy that she's back where she belongs?"

Their was no response as he unlocked the door and went into the flat.

Charlotte's smile wavered for a moment.

"He's occupied at the moment," Charlotte responded for him.

"Oh he always is," Mrs. Hudson said playfully back, as the door closed.

"I'll have tea with you tomorrow alright? I just have to settle in."

"Yes of course," she smiled again before giving her a quick hug letting Charlotte go on her way up the stairs.

As she opened the door, a smell of familiarity wafted in the room. The smell of old books, chemicals, and dead things.

Home sweet home.

"You don't need the lock box you know."

She frowned at the lock box sitting before her feet, no doubt containing all the things she was once addicted to.

"I'm leaving that all behind me," she explained.

He ignored her as he strummed his violin.

"When is Mycroft coming to get it?"

No response was heard, only the plucks of the strings echoed quietly in the flat.

She picked up the box carefully, shaking it a little, then rose an eyebrow.

"It has your stash in it too," she stated surprised turning her head towards him, "except the nicotine patches. But that's not an addiction. That's just-"

"I'm not addicted to drugs."

Charlotte laughed, "neither am I. I just stayed at the hospital for the kicks," she replied sarcastically.

"It's for-"

"The work. It's always for the work. Sooooo predictable!"

"And you aren't? You always go back on something, ANYTHING, because-"

He stopped strumming then. And they both looked at each other in silence. He leaned forward, eyes thinned, and glared.

"Because you feel sorry for yourself."

Their was silence then once again. They looked at each other waiting for a response but their was nothing but tension in the air.

"I won't say anything because-"

"Their is nothing to say. I'm right you're-"

"Because you are still clearly angry with me about what happened. And that is okay-"

"What, did you learn that in therapy," he spat.

"I did actually. Let me know when you want to have an actual adult like conversation Sherlock," she spat back, unable to keep her composure for very long. She soon left, carrying her stuff with her and tried her best not to slam her bedroom door.

John soon came in after carrying a gift with a red bow on it.

Sherlock was no longer sitting at this point, instead he was standing by the window, playing a song he composed while watching a hint of snow fall down the busy street.

"Where's Charlotte? We have a gift for her."

He continued playing, ignoring the question at hand.

Charlotte soon came back out to the living room, her door left opened revealing her suitcase to be open, prepared for her week long stay. Then it would be prepared to leave back to uni.

"John," she exclaimed smiling speeding towards him arms open.

"Hi Char," he greeted back at her with a matching smile. He then revealed the said gift, resulting in an even bigger smile than before from Charlotte.

"For a better year."

"For a better year," she replied back while opening the gift which said, "From Mary, John, and Eliza."

When she opened it she covered her mouth then laughed.

The frame was wooden, with carvings of flowers and vines along with a year.

Good god that picture was years ago.

In it had everyone from Charlotte's first official birthday party.

Along both ends were the adults and in the center was Charlotte herself, along with Elizabeth showing off their teeth, or lack thereof, along with the plentiful amount of gifts.

"Thank you," she paused , "thank you so much."

He then squeezed her shoulder before leaving waving a goodbye to Sherlock, closing the door carefully.

And then they were met with silence once again, besides the music being played by Sherlock's violin.

"You know, even if you don't agree with me, I've come along way from the little girl from the suburbs."

He stopped playing for a second.

"And you're right. You are right. I need to move on," she nodded, still looking at the picture feeling the wooden carvings in her pale hands.

"But so do you," she continued, looking up at him, "with my past and yours."

He examined her for a moment eying her. From her clothes, to her eyes, to finally her face.

She had in no doubt grown up. Too quickly, if you asked him, but grown up nonetheless.

But as he realized a million times over and over again, despite the abuse, and the drugs, and everything in between, she was still that little girl Sherlock met all those years ago.

She had her hand out holding the picture along with its frame, reaching out for him to take.

He put down his violin, and took it.

He looked at himself first, no surprise there. His hair was a little grayer now and his face looked more aged now, but his chiseled cheekbones still stayed in tact along with most of his features.

He then looked at the little girl in the center, with her blonde hair and calm eyes that reminded him of John, with her pale face and big broken glasses that she no longer needed.

With everything, she still looked the same.

And he smirked at that. 


	21. Chapter 21

A couple days later, and Thomas Magnussen finally arrived for the deal.

Unknowing to him, a total of nine people were waiting for him in the small flat, eight armed and ready to scare the living daylights out of him.

With guns around the house, they all looked like they were part of the mafia, except for Charlotte of course, who had her arms crossed, truly unimpressed.

But who looked the part most of all surprisingly was none other than Ms. Hudson, whose grin she could not hide and eyes that looked as though she was having a flashback.

As he walked in, Charlotte went up immediately.

"Hey! Wait where are you-"

"I didn't agree to this," Charlotte replied quickly, clearly annoyed, "you all did. So I'm out."

"Wait but I need your-"

And then the door slammed.

Thomas turned to see all the faces, realizing this may be more difficult than he thought.

Meanwhile, as she went down the stairs, Charlotte was deciding where to go.

She decided that a walk around the city would be fun, so she did just that.

As she was window shopping, she saw the glowing lights reveal beautiful gowns and outfits for the winter. But none caught her eye until she saw the public art gallery.

Not currently inhabited by anyone except one person, she figured she would be safe despite the lack of security cameras.

Char walked in quietly, trying not to disturb the one person in there until-

"Oh helllooooooo," a familiar voice echoed throughout the practically empty gallery, "pleasure to see you again!"

She stopped in her tracks as the door slowly closed.

"Come! Sit," he exclaimed as he hopped to the bench sitting in the middle of the gallery.

She carefully did, fully knowing who this person was.

"Hello Jim."

"Oh no more uncle," he asked, making a sarcastic surprised face, "I thought we were family."

She tried to sound calm and composed despite the fact that the world's biggest evil mastermind was in the same room as she was.

"But families fall out don't they," he continued, forming a frown on his face, "even yours."

"You know Charlotte. I can't keep Sherlock happy too long. He'll get carried away."

She continued to not look at him, but instead at the water colors on the wall she was facing.

"Which is why we need to make a deal," he said grinning, "and we'll pinky promise like we should of done before."

"And if I don't agree? What? You'll kill me? You'll kill everyone? Boring."

"I don't have many options here," he whispered putting his face really close to her ear.

"Fine."

He grinned.


	22. Chapter 22

As she went back to 221B, Charlotte Holmes couldn't help but look down on the ground. Despite the sidewalk looking the same all the way there, it seemed more interesting then the lights and traffic of the city.

She stopped walking when she saw familiar shoes in a distance.

"How were they?"

"Terrifying," Thomas replied looking pale, "but they're your family so what did I expect," he joked.

They then both laughed for a moment.

"To be honest though, I like them. Not as much as you, but I like them."

"Wait what?"

"What?"

Thomas looked down for a moment as Charlotte turned her head in a confused state.

"Charlotte, there's something," he faltered, "I should say, I've meant to say always and then never have. I might as well say it now."

"What's that?"

"This."

He held her face for a moment, and then leaned in towards Charlotte's lips as Charlotte's eyes went wide with shock.

As they say in, well pretty much everywhere, all time stood still. All there was Charlotte and Thomas and his warm hands that had a slight tremor with them.

And in that moment, Charlotte realized she didn't just sign a deal with one devil, that's devil being Moriarty, but two.

The other being love.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his hands up, hoping not to get beaten up, and slowly backing away.

"I," she paused, "How...What? You? When? What? HOW?!"

"How?"

"Ugh," sighed clearly not wanting an explanation on how he liked her. Emotions were hard to explain, "Again."

"What?"

"Again."

"Why can't you just make a sentence again?"

"AGAIN."

He just rose his eyebrow confused with his hands still up in defense.

"Ugh," she sighed, stomping towards him, holding his face like he did to her seconds before, and whispering, "again."

And soon time stood still once again.

That is until-

"WHAT THE," Charlotte yelled as Mycroft whacked Thomas with his umbrella, "WHAT NO STOP IT, NO BAD UNCLE MYCROFT."

Lestrade suddenly appeared helping Mycroft with ganging up on Thomas.

"No not you too," she sighed, finally realizing she had to do this herself.

She soon broke it up, revealing a bloody Thomas and a boiling Mycroft and Lestrade.


	23. Chapter 23

"Come on," she sighed giving a small smile at his bloody form.

"Your family is-"

"Yeah," she paused shaking her head, "I know."

Mary and Elizabeth Watson soon came out on the street to help her bring him in, clearly they both liked him and his now broken glasses.

"You know this isn't necessary. I'm fine."

All the girls laughed in unison.

"He is," Sherlock said through the door gruffly, as they entered.

"You're just mad that you sealed the deal," Eliza said smirking, "nice kiss by the way," she turned to Charlotte.

Charlotte looked down and blushed while Thomas smirked at Sherlock, fully knowing he not only won the deal but won Charlotte's heart.

Soon he was cleaned up and sent on his way home along with the rest of the large family.

Leaving Sherlock and Charlotte alone once again.

"He's not as bad as he-"

"I know," he said putting on readers, a true sign of age, as he read the paper.

"He's brilliant and kind and-"

"I know."

"He makes me happy papa and if you would just-"

"I know. I know."

She looked up at him confused as he looked back at her with soft eyes.

"We had a...chat," he explained, while you were gone...privately of course."

"If you break her, hurt her," his voice low, eyes glaring at him hours before he left that day, "in any way, I will kill you...slower...more gruesome...more agonizing...then I ever did to your father."

"I understand Mr. Holmes," he said with no fear in his eyes.

He tried to find some fear, anywhere, from his posture to his eyes, and he found nothing. Sure he was nervous. But that wasn't because he was surrounded by his friend's-now-girlfriend's-family. No.

It was because he was surrounded by guns and killers.

Which didn't make sense to Sherlock.

Sure it's natural to fear weapons that can kill you an instant.

But it's also just as natural to fear the family of your significant other's at first.

Why wasn't he?

"Mr. Holmes," he began, "can I call you Sherlock?"

"No."

"Alrighty," he sighed nervously looking at the gun in Sherlock's hands, "I know it's clear how I feel about your daughter and it's clear why you're doing this. But you and Mr. Watson...whatever it is you both are...friends, brothers...you have something there that can be interpreted as anything. That's what your daughter and I have sir."

"I can assure you," Sherlock Holmes growled, "that my friendship with John is not only incomparable it is also none of your business. And to say-"

"We saved each other...from ourselves Mr. Holmes. Just like you saved him and he saved you."

He rose an eyebrow for a moment.

"I read his blog sir. And just by looking at you-"

"You deduced."

"Yes sir," Thomas nodded, "and although your life is none of my business, I do want to say that-"

Sherlock shook his head, "Enough about John. We are soldiers Thomas. Soldiers," he emphasized.

"Yet-"

"My penis doesn't decide to say hello every time he's around. Unlike yours when you even just think of Charlotte."

"Oh my god. Enough about my-"

"You just want her for the sex. Love is a dangerous disadvantage Thomas. You should know that."

"I do not mean to be rude in anyway sir, but what about you?"

Sherlock sat silent holding his gun tighter for a moment.

"You, out of all people, should not be saying that."

Sherlock blinked a couple of times back to reality as he looked once again at Charlotte, his eyes even softer than before.

"He does care for you," he began, "very much so in fact. That he insulted me in the progress."

He went back to hours before once again.

"We are on the same exact side Mr. Holmes. The same side," he said defensively, "and I think we should make one more deal."

He went back to his conversation to Charlotte once again.

"He is a man of deals Thomas is."

"What deal did he-"

Suddenly a vibration was felt in Charlotte's back pocket with a familiar contact name and message.

"I have to go," she said.


	24. Chapter 24

**Listen to "I Had No One," from the Season 4 Soundtrack of Sherlock. Trust me on this. Oh and if you want listen to "Sledgehammer," by Rihanna from the Star Trek Beyond Soundtrack as well.**

As she went down the stairs, Sherlock followed after her.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Out. It's an emergency."

"Well if it is," he paused while opening the door to the outside world, "let me come with you. It's late-"

Suddenly he felt a stabbing pain on the back of his neck and a bag cover his head. And a familiar voice say,

"Nighty night Sherlock Holmes."

"The other three are already there," a tough man, probably a body guard, stated, based on his ear piece and dark suit.

"He wanted an audience," she sighed walking with him to the car while he carried Sherlock's body.

Sherlock opened his eyes seeing a familiar ceiling. As he stood up, the room looked more and more familiar. On either side of him, two people were tied in familiar chairs.

John and Thomas.

He looked at the guard standing by the door in the wide room and next to him was a speaker.

"Oooooo someone just woke up from their nappy," a voice stated in it.

Suddenly John and Thomas' eyes shot wide open. They both struggled to be free.

"Let the story begin! And ACTION!"

Sherlock looked towards the door as it was being shuffled with finally revealing the person he was looking for.

Charlotte.

"Oh Sherlock," she sighed, "remember this place. Good times good times."

"You got shot here," he spat.

"Good point. But I did meet someone very special. Someone who was right about you all along."

Sherlock looked at the door once again as it was opened to reveal someone he hasn't seen in a long time.

"Hellooooooooo," he sang waving, "isn't she darling," he asked while squeezing her shoulders.

Sherlock set his jaw for a moment, but did not respond.

"What do you want," John spat.

"No no no don't rush this," he sang smiling, "this is good so far. What would you call this John? The Dying Detective? The Daughter's Betrayal? Oh but wait...she was never yours in the first place was she Sherlock," he said frowning while looking at Sherlock once again.

Sherlock said nothing.

"Charlotte will always be and will never not be Sherlock's Jim," Thomas stated coldly, "it's about time you accept that."

"Oh Thomas! Forgot you were here! You know I remember you when you were a little tot. Just crawling aroounnndddd."

Jim then leaned down and held his jaw.

"You know you're about to see who Charlotte really is. Your true love," he said smiling, "really romantic I must say. Too bad I have to end it sooooo soon. You know seeing her murder someone and all can REALLY ruin a relationship."

Jim then stood back up, turning to Charlotte.

She could hear some footsteps in the distance.

He then gave her a pistol.

"Any parting words niece of mine? To Sherlock."

She turned to him with the gun quickly, aimed towards his forehead.

"Sherlock Holmes," she began with anger in her eyes, "you...bastard."

Sherlock's eyes went wide as he felt the cold metal against his pale skin.

Charlotte heard the footsteps get closer and closer until it went to a stop.

She still had anger in her eyes, but for a split second, just a split second, he saw them soften.

"Run."

Suddenly, she heard a crash at the door's window, seeing the body guard flop to the ground and a bullet hole through his head.

Sherlock then ran as Charlotte turned shooting Moriarty in the head and started untying Thomas and John.

Elizabeth then came in with a machine gun in her hand along with other guns for the rest of them.

"Take them with you. Take care of each other. All of you," Charlotte began as a laser was being pointed to her head in the gigantic room.

"Go," she whispered, "run all of you."

"Charlotte-," Sherlock's voiced raised as John and Eliza dragged him out and Tom opened the door.

Suddenly a gun shot was heard.

"CHARLOTTE," he screamed trying to run towards her, but was held back by the two of them.

"Soldiers Sherlock soldiers," he reminded him with tears in his eyes as he saw Charlotte dying in a distance, with a bullet hole on the side of her head.

They then dragged him out of the room then all went down the stairs, shooting the rest of the assassins along the way, opening the door to reveal Scotland Yard.

"Where is he," Lestrade growled.

"He's dead upstairs," Eliza sighed still trying to support the two unstable men.

"And Charlotte?"

"She's...upstairs."

Quickly, Lestrade barked orders to his men as police sirens echoed in the dark night, meanwhile Mycroft led a group of men to survey the scene above through helicopters.

Lestrade went up the stairs with his men but found nothing.

Not a body, no blood, nothing.

He then heard his phone ring.


	25. Chapter 25

Listen to "Who You Really Are," from the Sherlock Season 4 Soundtrack. Pretty please. SEASON FOUR SPOILERS AHEAD.

"Where is she?"

"Go to the nearest hospital," a soft woman's voice said, "room 221."

"HALF OF YOU COME WITH ME," he yelled while going on the walkie talkie and alerting Mycroft of his call.

"What did the voice sound like?"

"It was a woman clearly," he began, "and she sounded soft but creepy."

"Hypnotizing?"

"Yes-"

He suddenly heard Mycroft hang up.

"I'm calling Sherrinford."

Sherlock, with a shock blanket around his neck around him along with John, Eliza, and Thomas.

"Her and I made a deal," Eliza said to a cop, "she knew this time would come and she made me promise to chose them over her. She made me," she repeated tearing up.

Sherlock meanwhile just looked at the building where it all began.

For a moment, he doubted her.

How could he have doubted her?!

He then quickly stood up as Lestrade came to him.

"Someone took her," he said.

"Who?!"

"She's at the hospital. You stay here. I'll-"

"No I'm coming with you."

"Sherlock-"

"She's my daughter Greg."

Greg looked at him for a moment.

"Fine, lets go. You too Thomas."

Thomas' sad eyes looked up for a moment still trying to cling to hope that she was still alive.

Thomas and Sherlock looked at each other and nodded.

"Play," a voice echoed along with some beeping, "play."

Her eyes went to darkness until she saw her old childhood flat again.

"Play," a younger but still adult Sherlock said sternly.

She looked at a nearby wall mirror. She looked younger too. Much younger.

"PLAY," an unrecognizable female voice yelled.

Her eyes went wide open and she gripped the violin in her hand.

The walls were whiter than her face along with her dress gown and her blankets.

The woman, with long black wavy hair and ice blue eyes, had another violin, similar to the one in her hands propped up on her chin.

"I want to play something of yours, with a hint of a duet in the beginning of course. That's the least you could do for me."

She looked at the wires connected to her body, deducing she was more drugged up then she thought.

Not questioning her, since she did save her life, she played the duet with her.

As Sherlock, Thomas, Greg, and Mycroft went down the thin hallway, they heard the harmony get closer and closer with each of their heart rates becoming faster and faster.

Greg carefully opened the door.

"Oh hello Mycroft, Sherlock," Charlotte said, her eyes red, "this is Eurus. Isn't she nice? She gave me my violin," she said smiling.

She then passed out.

The only thing heard in the silent room was the violin dropping to the floor.


	26. THIS IS IT

THIS IS IT.

Yes. This is it.

You just finished "The Power of Deduction."

Thank you for going along with the ride.

I want to thank every single last reader, commenter, and voter for believing in this fanfic. You have no idea how many times you saved me.

But this isn't the end.

I will being adding another novel.

That's right. This is just the beginning.

And I hope you continue on Charlotte's journey through life with me (pretty please do).

I won't reveal the title just yet, but check my profile next week (just do it) and you'll see...


End file.
